The Affair
by jessa-beth
Summary: Post DH! The summer after Ginny's seventh year, she accepts Harry's proposal. The irritating Draco Malfoy distracts her from her love, however, and several unexpected run ins ignite an unwanted and painful but healing and passionate romance. VERY MATURE!
1. We've Only Just Begun

**A/N:** THIS STORY CONTAINS SOME DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILERS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

On that note, this story is dedicated to my absolutely beautiful and wonderful Ariana (Haji666)!! I hope she enjoys it!!! I wrote this first chapter on a whim because she told me to. We sat in the park for hours, and thought. Finally, she came up with her own wonderful storyline, and gave me the beginning of a plot for something like this... and so, this pathetic little story popped out, and here it is! I hope it's not TOO horrible, and I also hope I can ACTUALLY finish it, unlike pretty much everything else I do. Hee hee. Anyway... do enjoy the story!!

Oh, and just so you know: the story WILL get more interesting as it goes on, I promise... or rather, I'll certainly do my best!! ENJOY!!

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The glint of the store window caught her eye as she passed. Her head turned automatically to stare, and she found herself stationary in the middle of the street. The bride-to-be inside of her was paralyzed by the sight of the shop, which was brightly lit and full of happy, chattering customers. The window display was simple, but it appealed immediately to the excitement that consumed Ginny's conscious thought: a row of delicate, golden rings was laid out upon a spectacularly clean white cushion. 

As though she was a magnet to the wedding rings, Ginny walked to the glass in a trance-like state. Her eyes fell dazedly upon the display, and as she stared in awe, she let out a breath of wonder. She and Harry had not yet chosen their wedding rings, but then, their engagement was really quite recent. She remembered the proposal with a comfortable smile upon her face: she remembered the unbelievable shock, the sudden mirth that then crashed upon her, and she remembered, too, the wonderful hour that had followed.

She must have been grinning something outrageous, because she knew eyes were upon her. Her face heated as she quickly wiped away her silly expression, embarrassment rising rapidly to her pale cheeks. She turned to apologize to the poor witness to her moment of public giddiness, but the sight that met her ashamed gaze changed her feelings abruptly. Her small, awkward smile disappeared as quickly as though it had been hexed away as a head of blonde hair that she could have recognized anywhere stood before her now, shaking itself softly with a low, amused chuckle.

"Wipe that shock and disgust off your face, Weasley: it doesn't flatter you." In the year that had passed since the battle against Voldemort, Draco Malfoy's cold sneer had not changed even slightly. His mouth was twisted into its usual smirk, and his fierce eyes betrayed the haughty laughter he was clearly restraining.

Ginny could think of no response, her mind wiped blank with the shock of seeing Malfoy again, after all that time. Confusion swept over her, and she opened her mouth to say something just as nasty and rude to the man, but all that tumbled from her lips was: "What are _you_ doing here, Malfoy?" It was pathetic, but she was still too taken aback by his sudden presence to realize how lame the question sounded.

"I should ask of you the same question," Malfoy sneered, his eyebrows high on his face, adding to his expression of smug pride. He glanced toward the display of rings that shone dazzlingly in the window, taunting her. "I can already see the obvious answer, however, so there would really be no reason to ask it." A horrible glint in his cold, grey eye told Ginny he did know, and thought her engagement comical. "Am I correct to assume that you and Saint Potter are going to be wed?" The corners of his lips twitched arrogantly, clearly entertained by the thought.

She knew angry color was rising to her face, but she could not stop it. She felt it pointless to lie, so she admitted a quiet, stuttering "yes," before turning back to the window.

"Touching," was his reply, his voice full of arrogant sarcasm.

Still focused upon the glistening rings, she cleared her throat. "You haven't answered my question, Malfoy: why are _you_ here?"

The man was silent. His lack of a quick, sarcastic retort made her look up. His face had gone slack, and she could not read this new expression. "I would think that obvious," he said quietly, turning his gaze to the rings as well. It took him a while to continue. She waited patiently for him to go on, curiosity nailing her to the spot. She watched him lick his lips and inhale deeply before saying at last, "I'm going to propose to my girlfriend."

Ginny instantly grabbed the opportunity for an excellent chance to insult him, smiling sweetly while her eyes danced with mischief: "Another one? What— was Pansy Parkinson not loose enough for you?"

Malfoy stayed calm, but the stiff writhing of his mouth expressed his amusement at her words. "Pansy was not for me," he said. "I prefer my women more sophisticated, and at least slightly more reserved than she."

"So, who's this new girl?" Ginny questioned, letting her stare fix upon one particularly beautiful ring that sparkled in the sun pouring through the gap between their bodies.

"You wouldn't know her."

"I'm sure," Ginny sniggered. "What are you, ashamed of her, whoever she is?"

Draco Malfoy's glare was malicious. A muscle in his jaw twitched maniacally as he struggled with his words. Finally, with what seemed a lot of effort, he hissed slowly though his teeth as though every word was a struggle to emit: "You don't know her, _Weasley_." He placed particularly angry emphasis upon his last word. His brow was creased, and his lip curled in seething fury. She watched his hands twist in their tight grasp behind his back.

She gulped, his icy glare intimidating her into submission on the topic. "Alright," she said, surprising herself with her calm tone, "alright, I get it. So: Draco Malfoy's in love, is that it? I didn't know it was possible." She smiled wryly.

Malfoy's neck seemed to give an involuntary twitch. Ginny stared at him. The man's brow fell low over his eyes as he stared furiously at the shop window, as though he had never hated anything more than the glass before him. His reflection glinted at her as she looked back at the display as well, and she licked her dry lips once as she waited for him to speak. He stood so stiffly he could have been an angry but beautiful ice sculpture. She gazed for a few more moments upon the shining rings, but soon after her thoughts began to drift towards her wedding, he spoke:

"I suppose I am," he said inconclusively. His tone was cold but calm in contrast to his angry demeanor that seemed to emanate a chilling hatred, warning her not to persist in her questions. She did as his posture suggested, and continued to stare silently at a single ring as it glowed at her lusciously. Several moments of silence passed, and she found herself wondering why she was still standing there beside him. Just as she began to contemplate leaving, he spoke again. He spoke as though it cost him to do so, and with such uncertainty that it felt contagious, and made her confused simply to hear him speak. "My father likes her," he said slowly, "for she will gladly continue our family's proud legacy."

The response came immediately, without a second thought: "Your father likes her? What, so you're just going to marry her because he likes her? What about love?"

She looked back up at him, unable to resist as he said brusquely, "My father is a smart man. He knows what he is talking about."

Ginny snorted. "Oh, yeah," she laughed sarcastically. "He's a genius! The man went to Azkaban for a year because he was smart enough to join You-Know—Voldemort, and smart enough to be a bigot who hates people just because of their background."

She regretted her pronouncement the moment she finished it. He was too fast for her, and very suddenly, he had her pressed against the window, his vicious glare more terrible than ever she had seen it. She could hear his fingers clutch at the glass angrily, and heard it shake echoingly so that shouts of worry could be heard from within the shop. "Don't you _ever _talk about my father like that, _Weasley_," Malfoy hissed. His face was a mere inch from her own, and her heart was beating fast as his sneer hovered over her obviously terrified expression. Pure, unadulterated disgust dripped from his every word, and his arms shook on either side of her. She heard his fingertips slide upon the immaculate glass, and as the owner gave a cry from within and began scurrying toward the door to tell them off, Malfoy growled in annoyance, looking over her shoulder at the small old man. He removed his arms so she was no longer trapped, but still she remained frozen in shock and terror, her wand buried deep within her robes where she could not retrieve it easily. She was panting when he pulled away.

"We're done here," he grunted, lifting his eyebrows at her as a salutation before pushing passed her to actually enter the shop. She turned to watch him go, her breath still shallow from shock. His palm prints stuck heatedly to the clean glass. Between the two handprints, she pressed her front to the window, staring in at the white-blonde man now sweeping over the cases of engagement rings. The encounter left her breathless, and terrified. She continued to stare, until Malfoy seemed to at last find a ring he deemed worthy, and pointed to it stiffly. As she watched him sneer down at the tiny boisterous man who took it out of its enclosure to let him examine it, a terrible fire of hatred rose within her. It gave her at last the strength to pull herself together, straighten out her robes, and remove herself from the scene in a huff.

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**A/N:** OH YES, AND DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW, MY FRIENDS!! I DO SO LOVE REVIEWS!! I GOBBLE 'EM UP HAPPILY, SO DON'T LET ME STARVE!! 


	2. Ballad for Dead Friends

**A/N:** Love to you all! Remember what I said about the spoilers, now!!

This chapter is, sadly, full of just angst, and much less about the DG love. Draco will finally make his beautiful and irritating appearance again in the NEXT chapter. Sorry. Oh, and sorry about the Ginny/Harry romance in this chapter--I know you DG shippers were really looking forward to the DG love, but I swear, that's coming soon!! Just hold tight, and it'll happen! I swear!

Enjoy!!

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She ran a hand over her sopping hair, wringing out the length of it so that a fountain of water cascaded down her naked back, tricking awkwardly down her skin, over the curves of her hips and thighs. She stood motionlessly, watching the water drip ceaselessly from her knees, a never-ending flow of the cleansing water she had drenched herself in. Ginny was still feeling oddly shaken after her confrontation with Malfoy, and his utterly furious grey eyes seemed burned into the insides of her eyelids, so that every time she closed her eyes, a terrible guilt flooded her, as though she was dirty, or wrong in some way. She had done nothing wrong, but somehow she had felt, when Malfoy had so frustratingly pressed his body to hers, that this lingering punishment was deserved. Had she, perhaps, struck some sort of hidden nerve by insulting his father? It had seemed, in the past, that to do so always pushed some button within him, but now—in all her memory, she could not recall a fury so deep in those chillingly cold eyes. Now, she felt branded with his anger, stuck with a guilt that she knew she shouldn't have: a guilt she knew she didn't deserve. As a Weasley, she had every right to insult him and his pitifully arrogant family. 

A knock upon the bathroom door roused her from her musings. "Ginny?" called Harry's obviously concerned voice. "Are you alright? You've been in there for a long time, now."

She wrapped a towel around herself, and let the door open. She smiled at him, feeling beautiful warmth spread throughout her shivering body as she stared into his caring eyes. They were so piercingly green in the most delightful way, and as she gazed into them, she found another goofy grin upon her face, quite like the one she'd worn earlier before Malfoy had found her. "I'm fine," she said calmly. Indeed, her heartbeat had returned to its slow, deep, steady rhythm at the sight of his bright eyes locked with hers.

"Did something happen today?" he questioned, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. She couldn't help but notice his eyes traveling clearly unwillingly to her body. He seemed to be struggling with himself—forcing his gaze to her face, twisting his mouth madly, and losing his restraint as those dazzlingly green eyes fell to the curves that he knew the loose towel was hiding.

Ginny giggled at the man who—it just occurred to her, with a leap of her heart—was going to one day be called her husband. "No; nothing happened," she told him, keeping a close watch on his wandering stare with a smile. "Today was pretty boring, actually," she lied, "but it's about to get a whole lot better." A smile tugged at her lips, and they gave in to the mischievous grin so she looked suddenly wild. Harry's eyes were wide, and she laughed as he ran a hand once through his ridiculously tangled hair. Her gaze lingered upon the scar that was such a painful reminder of everything they had gone through even just a year ago.

As she remembered all of Harry's struggles—remembered the few minutes during which she had thought him dead—she lost herself in her desire to realize he was actually hers: alive, safe, and really hers. She dropped her towel, and was suddenly in his eager arms.

* * *

She had a very odd dream that night. She and Harry were at Hogwarts, and she was wearing a white dress. McGonagall was clapping avidly from a corner, and Harry was dancing wildly. She turned, and saw Draco Malfoy laughing fully at her, a mad expression contorting his every handsome feature. She clutched Harry's hand protectively, but Malfoy raised his wand, a horrible gleam in his eye. 

Something pulled her suddenly, and graciously back to earth. "Ginny," someone was cooing, "What's up? Are you dreaming something nice?"

She didn't answer, but merely snuggled into Harry's warm body, letting his arms enfold themselves around her small frame. She gave a noncommittal sort of noise that was halfway between a mumble of arousal and a groan of pain as she placed her hands on his chest. She felt his exhale into her hair, and pressed her face into his bare skin as it tickled her scalp wonderfully. Loving every minute of his company, Ginny could hardly believe she was going to marry the famous Harry Potter. She had loved him since before she had met him, and now she was really going to become his wife. Her stomach lurched pleasantly. Sighing, she grumbled a soft, "I love you," into his neck, before falling back into a more comfortable sleep—one much less plagued by the irritating Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Harry was gone when she awoke. Training to become an Auror was difficult work, she knew, and with still two years left of the three-year program, he had a long way to go. He left early each morning, leaving her alone to Grimmauld Place with Kreacher. She had never liked the elf, but after her eventful sixth year at Hogwarts, she had grown fond of him. Just out of her seventh year, and newly engaged to the brilliant Harry Potter, her days were spent ambiguously. It seemed that some small part of her had thought she would either always be at Hogwarts, or that she would die before she left. Neither was true, and with her entire life out in front of her, never had she been so uncertain about everything. Her future felt so unstable, like she was walking down a long, dark tunnel leading to no where. All she could see as a solid prospect in her future was Harry—Harry and his eyes greeting her every morning for the rest of an eternity together—maybe children to greet her, too—but what else? She felt lost, in just the way she supposed everyone did for a bit after Hogwarts. 

"Kreacher," she called. With a sudden crack that made her fall out of bed, he appeared. She stood, her knees quaking slightly, and smiled kindly at the old elf. "Kreacher, how are you today?" Harry and Ginny always made a point to be extra polite to Kreacher, knowing the sort of way in which he could turn on an unkind master.

He seemed overcome, but held back his tears as he bowed deeply. "Kreacher is well, Kreacher is very well, my soon-to-be mistress! Very well! Thank you! Thank you, Kreacher shall remember you have asked—" He always took her politeness this way.

"Uh, right," she said awkwardly. "That's good. Kreacher, do you, uh… think you could make some breakfast or something? I'm going out again today."

Kreacher looked utterly delighted. "Oh, of course, my future mistress! Certainly, my future mistress! Anything!"

"Thank you, Kreacher," she said kindly, and he beamed.

He left, and she dressed haphazardly before exiting to follow him into the kitchen downstairs. "What has my future mistress planned for today? More shopping, like yesterday?"

"Maybe," Ginny mused to the elf as he worked. She sat at the table, resting her head on her arms which crossed over the surface of the table. Slouched like that, she had to strait her voice to speak clearly when she said: "Actually, I'm thinking of looking for a job."

"Oh, a job!" Kreacher exclaimed in a grunt of excitement. "Jobs can be rewarding."

"Yes," she said, "and I was also hoping to first stop by at my parent's house. Y'know, to check how they're doing."

* * *

A half an hour later, Ginny was making her way through the chicken-strewn lawn to reach the back door of the Burrow. Memories flooded her happily as she looked to the old garage where her father tinkered with muggle artifacts, and where she had several times snuck in to retrieve Fred's or George's broomstick to practice flying. 

"Mum?" Ginny called, pushing open the back door cautiously.

"Ginny!" cried Mrs. Weasley excitedly, lunging at her daughter from the moment she entered the room. "Oh, Ginny, it's so good to see you! It's been such a dull summer without you here! How is everything? How's Harry's Auror training going?"

Ginny opened her mouth to reply to these simple questions, but before any words came out, her mother squealed happily and went on:

"Oh, Ginny there's so much to plan! Have you decided on a date for the wedding yet? Have you and Harry thought about children? Is Grimmauld Place really even a suitable environment for children to be raised in? I do hope Harry's thought about that. You really may want to start considering buying your own flat, dear—and getting a job!"

"Mother," Ginny interrupted loudly, bringing her mother to an abrupt halt in her fussing. "Mother, everything is fine. Harry and I are taking things one step at a time, but yes, we've thought about buying a flat together. His Auror training is going well, and I'm actually going to look for a job today."

Mrs. Weasley smiled a watery smile at her daughter. Tears filled her soft brown eyes, and she patted Ginny sweetly on the cheek. "You're so grown up," she sighed, her voice containing a squeak as she attempted to hold back the rush of emotion that Ginny knew must be welling up inside of her. Quite suddenly, however, it was gone as she bustled about the kitchen to make her daughter some food. "Oh, and if you're looking for a job," she said, speaking over Ginny's protests as she dropped a plate with a sandwich in front of her, "George would probably appreciate some help at the shop, you know."

A terrible silence fell like a great veil, blocking the two women from any thoughts but Fred. Ginny's eyes grew wet, and her heart constricted painfully as Fred's face swam to the front of her mind, and she remembered George, all alone in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Mrs. Weasley coughed and sniffed, breaking the uncomfortable silence, and she continued moving ceaselessly about the kitchen, piling different kinds of lunch foods onto more plates, and shoving them at Ginny as though she were starved. Ginny had an odd feeling her mother was compensating for her loneliness. The woman had raised seven children, and never seemed alone, always with people to look after, and always with people to scold or praise as prodigies of hers. Now, however, it was simply Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, alone in this house so full of memories, probably missing the presence of children very deeply.

Leaving the Burrow again was very painful. "Tell dad I say hi, mum," Ginny said calmly, though she felt she might have cried, then. "I love you guys." She hugged her mother tightly, not wanting to let go for several minutes.

When she left at last for Diagon Alley, her head was spinning—overflowing with the love for her tightly knit family. "Hello, Tom," she said with a nod of her head to the barman, feeling slightly chilled as she did so due to her history with the name. He nodded back at her, and she proceeded to the back alley and Diagon Alley.

The place was alive again. She remembered sadly the days when Diagon Alley had been deserted, grey, and fearful at every turn. The color seemed to have returned to all the shops. The thought of George drove her forward through the noisy, happy crowd. The brightly colored shop of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes hit Ginny's eye from yards away. A laugh still pulled at her throat every time she laid eyes upon the delightfully flashy store window. As it always was, the place was packed. Loud and cheerful customers laughed happily in Ginny's ear as she shoved passed them, scanning the heads of the crowd for a head red hair like hers.

Ginny had avoided visits to Fred and George's store before now. She supposed it was silly to avoid it, but she couldn't help it. She knew Fred would want her to remember him at his happiest, but she couldn't help attempting to push all thought of him from her mind completely, as though she was denying he ever existed. It was insult to his beautiful memory, but it seemed her instinctual reaction to his death.

At last she found George, standing quietly by the cash register. She remembered with longing the time when he had so gallantly roamed about his store, happily promoting his own products to his curious customers. The sight of him so quiet and reserved, away from customers, pained her. She made her way towards him, just as a small boy approached him as well, his arms full of Skiving Snackboxes. She watched the boy dump his armful upon the counter, and George began unenthusiastically ringing up the purchases.

"Where's the other one?"

Ginny's heart sank as she heard the boy's question. She knew what he meant.

"Excuse me?" George questioned weakly. His voice cracked, and his hands were suddenly shaking.

The boy smiled innocently at him as he asked, "There were two of you a year ago! Where's the other one?"

George's face was blank, though Ginny thought his eyes looked rather red. He dropped the orange box he'd been clutching, and he seemed to teeter on the spot, still standing only for the counter he'd grabbed. He held its edge so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Rushing to his side, she put her hands atop his without even thinking. He glanced up at her with a watery smile. "Ginny," he choked.

"Hey, George, why don't I take this one?"

He nodded, evidently unable to speak well. He moved back, and leaned weakly against a wall, catching his breath as though he'd just run miles. She watched him cautiously out of the corner of her eye as she sold the boy the products, and waved him on his way. At the completion of the purchase, she turned slowly to her brother, who was white as a ghost. "George," she said carefully, "What was that?"

He shook his head, and for the second time in her life, she saw tears in his eyes. She had lived with the boy for her entire life, and caught her first sight of George crying at Fred's funeral. She could not remember tears on Fred's face even once, and felt her heart sinking with regret at this fact. Now, even as she watched, tears began to spill from George's pale face. "I'm sorry, Ginny," he breathed. "People asked me things like that for a while after… and every time, I just couldn't handle it. After hearing the same questions way too many times, though, I got used to it, but it's really died down by now, like everyone knows not to ask, or something. Sometimes, though… when the questions just catch me off guard…" His lower lip trembled like a child's. He put his hands to his face in shame, but Ginny saw nothing shameful about those tears that had begun to flood. She herself could hardly contain her own tears as she watched her brother's almost contagious agony.

"Oh, George," she whispered. She embraced him quickly, but he shoved her away after a moment.

George was sniffing. He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his bright magenta robes. For some reason, to gaze for too long upon the cheerful robes made her heart break. She avoided looking at them. "Alright, alright, Ginny, let's not get all mushy here," he said in a scolding tone. "I'm far too manly to allow myself to cry to my baby sister." She raised her eyebrows at him in amusement. He ignored her expression, and went back to the cash register, talking to her over his shoulder. "So, I heard about you and Harry," he said.

"Yes?"

"Indeed," he confirmed. "So have you thought about children yet?" Though his back was turned, she could hear the grin in his tone.

Rolling her eyes, she laughed, "Oh please. You sound like mum."

"Uh oh: She's already on you about children? God, don't let her too near the little beasts or she'll steal them away from you to raise them herself."

Ginny grinned. "Yeah, probably," she agreed. She was glad to hear the joking side of George again, and glad to know he still had it in him to laugh and make the sorts of jokes that he always had with Fred alive.

"But don't you keep them away from me!" he reprimanded, turning away from a blushing girl buying Patented Daydream Charms. "Those kids had better know their uncle George." His smile was wide, but as he opened his mouth for another comment, he shut it again, his smile vanishing. She didn't need to read minds to know what he was thinking.

She smiled warmly at her depressed brother. "Of course," she said, "and they'll know about Fred, too. Don't worry."

He swallowed, and smiled again, clearly glad she'd understood his silent command that the children not be ignorant about the twin he'd once been privileged to have. He turned back to the young girl once again, continuing to help her even as he cleared his throat and spoke still to Ginny: "Y'know, he'd have been really glad to hear about you and Harry." Her stomach lurched, and her heart tightened. "He always rooted for you guys finally tying the knot."

"I know," Ginny squeaked.

"So I just want you to know, Ginny, my darling baby sister," he smiled at her over his shoulder again, "that Fred and I both give you our blessings."

The 'thank you' she so wanted to tell him was lost in her throat. She could feel Fred's presence beside George so fully that it hurt, as though he were really there and had somehow damaged the earth's balance by being there. She felt he was there beside George, a ridiculous grin upon his beaming face, giving her his blessings himself. She couldn't bring herself to speak, but merely nodded, her smile feeling broken as it struggled against her cheeks that were so stiff from holding back tears.

"Anyway, Ginny," he said, distracting her from her emotions, "what brings you to my humble shop on a day like today?"

"Actually, George," she began slowly, looking at anything but his face—almost ashamed to ask the question, "I was wondering if you'd let me come work here."

George was silent. She thought, for a moment, that she had offended him, but then he spoke: "Sure, I suppose so. I mean, we've already got a lot of help, but we can always use more, right? Lee Jordan is working here too, now, as a matter of fact." He gulped. "He's my new business partner."

"Does he live upstairs?" she inquired.

"No," he rushed to answer, cutting off her last word sharply. She noticed his hand shake slightly as he handed a bag of products to the witch before him. She said nothing, watching him carefully now. He took a deep breath that seemed to send a shudder through his entire body, and said, "No one lives up there with me. It's just me and…" The word 'Fred' hovered between them like a horribly painful airborne substance that was seeping into them both. "Just me," he repeated quietly, his voice shaking, "and yes, you're perfectly welcome to join the intoxicating experience that is Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" The bouncy tone was back in his voice, and an extra glint in his eye shone brightly at Ginny as he grinned appreciatively at her.

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**A/N:** Remember to review! Thanks! 


	3. Another Know It All

**A/N:** Again, SPOILERS! Do not forget!

Here's chapter three! At last, Draco returns: so sexy, so FRUSTRATING. I've found that it's really quite difficult to write someone so full of himself and not make him out of character when I'm trying to EVENTUALLY get to his sensitive aspects, and I can't help but wonder at how JKR does it! A romance between Ginny and Draco is really actually quite hard to manipulate without making someone out of character, so I'm assuming that as chapters progress, one of 'em is gonna have to mush their personality a bit. Wah. Oh well.

ENJOY!!!

* * *

George had kept her in the back of the store for an hour to write her up a schedule, and then to scribble down some rules, most of which were sarcastic or obvious. "No stealing" was at the top of the little list now folded in her back pocket, while "No making fun of the owner's missing ear" was number two. Leaving the store and saying goodbye to George had been both painful and relieving. Living with Harry meant that every goodbye was usually for a long time, which was odd for her, having lived so closely to her brothers since her first day of life. This made leaving George alone at the shop again quite painful, but exiting the store at last had relieved some sort of pressure that had been unconsciously suffocating her when she was in there. Perhaps it was the fact that the dreaded memory of Fred—that she was trying to hard to suppress—drenched the entire aura of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and to remember him so wholly like that hurt her more than she realized it would. To leave the place was to breathe again: to step once more out of reality, and back into her world of denial. 

She passed Flourish and Blotts as she strolled aimlessly down Diagon Alley, and had a moment of horror to realize she would never again have the need to purchase schoolbooks. The end of Hogwarts marked the end of an era in her life, while Harry's proposal to her began an entire new one—one she was excited about, but nervous to venture into without guidance anymore. She collapsed herself into an empty chair in the outdoor venue that once belonged to Florean Fortescue's old ice-cream parlor. The place had been transformed into a simple diner since Fortescue's disappearance over two years ago. She had never eaten there, but its outdoor seats provided a convenient place to rest and to absorb all the emotions that were making her heart swell viciously.

A shadow passed over her downcast eyes. She paid it little attention, but as the figure sat in the chair opposite from her, she glanced up with curiosity. "Oh, no, not _you_."

"We meet again, Weasley," Draco Malfoy sneered, his voice full of as much malice as it had held the day before and the years before that.

"And once again, I ask you: what are you doing here?" She was not in the mood for any of his frustrating sarcasm, nor for his snide remarks that she knew would only provoke her into saying something that would—again—get her into trouble with his temper.

Malfoy's eyebrows rose. "Diagon Alley is a public area, Weasley," he said with a twitchy smile. "I simply happen to have been leaving an appointment with an old friend, and passed you sitting here looking so entertainingly forlorn. I could hardly resist such a wonderful opportunity," he jeered.

"Whatever," Ginny sighed, letting herself sink backward into the spindly chair, while Malfoy remained perfectly postured, straight-backed in his seat. "I'm not up for this today, Malfoy. Take your derisive comments home, or shut up."

"Well, well," Malfoy said, amusement plain, "The little weasel's got a temper." He laughed softly. "I suppose I should have remembered."

"You're one to talk," she snapped. "What was all that, yesterday? You totally lost it! I've been making comments about your father for years, but yesterday, you certainly got strangely testy about it. What was that about?" She assumed he would not answer and simply leave her alone, considering the question a rhetorical one, but she hoped too far.

Malfoy's face was placid as he gave her a submissive nod: "I will admit that I acted a bit harshly the other day."

She waited, as though expecting an apology. None came.

"So," she questioned, "was that a Malfoy version of an apology?"

"You assumed I would say I was sorry," he stated, laughter bubbling in his words. Her chest clenched with rage. He clearly thought her an object of stupid entertainment.

"Well, yes, actually," she burst, "after how violent you were the other day? Yes, I was expecting a short apology!"

"It would be a lie," he said calmly, "to tell you I was sorry."

"Oh, so you're glad you attacked me?"

"It would similarly be a lie to say I was not provoked," he said loudly over question.

"I was not provoking you!" she defended. "I was telling the truth!"

"_You_ were disrespecting my father."

"Well, the way you were talking, it sort of implied that you were only marrying this mystery woman because he likes her, and not because _you_ do!"

"Disrespect and disloyalty cannot go unpunished," he scowled, ignoring her pronouncement. He stared at a corner of the table that separated them, clearly avoiding looking at her.

Ginny rolled her eyes, ignoring him in turn. "Just tell me, Malfoy: Are you marrying this girl because you love her, or because your father thinks you should?"

Once again, he ignored her. "Remind me why I am sitting here," he said quietly.

"Beats me," she hissed at him, shrugging and folding her arms defensively over her chest. "Why _are_ you sitting here? Why aren't you at home with your precious fiancée?"

He blinked once at her, and did not answer. All he said was: "She is not my fiancée as of yet."

"No?"

As a response, Malfoy dug his hand deep into his robes. Instinctively, Ginny groped in her pockets for her wand, but he reached his goal before her: a small, black box. A small, warm smile appeared at her mouth unconsciously as she looked at it. He placed the container on the table between them, and slid it toward her. Taken aback, she stared at it in confusion for a moment, then glanced up at him, who was staring right back at her determinedly. Mostly to avoid his rather piercing stare, she looked back down at the box. The curiosity inside of her won out, and she reached forward to take it. It was soft to her fingertips, and her mind flashed back suddenly to the feel of the box Harry had presented her with in her hands—soft, like this one. She opened the lid, which squeaked as it snapped into position.

The ring was beautiful. Ginny could not resist the gasp of awe that escaped her as she laid eyes upon the delicate gold. The diamond set into it was luscious as it caught the summer light, and the sight of it made her mouth water. She could not look away: it was too dazzling. Her eyes were wide with amazement, probably shining with admiration for the golden band before her. Though her fingers lingered upon the lid of the box, she could not bring herself to push it closed. "Oh, Malfoy," she found herself sighing. "It's beautiful."

"Thank you," he said callously. The sound dragged her back to earth, where she finally shut the small container and stretched out her arm to give it back. He snatched it from her roughly, leaving her hand feeling oddly weak as his fingers so nearly brushed hers.

"That's one lucky girl, I guess," she said, bored, as she crossed her legs. She felt frustrated by his presence, and wanted him gone.

He shrugged. "Perhaps," he said frigidly with a twisted sneer upon his lips. "She will have much in the way of possessions," he stated. His voice was so cold, she found herself intimidated by every word. "She will be fortunate to join our family. My parents have taken to her nicely, and she has taken quickly to them, as well."

"Just answer me, Malfoy," Ginny said sternly. "Do you love her?"

He was silent.

"It shouldn't be such a hard question if you're planning to propose to her!"

"Oh, because _you_ clearly know _all_ about love," Malfoy sneered, "with your pathetic little fan-girl adoration you have for Potter that has so ignorantly led you to believe you are in love."

"Oh, Shut up, Malfoy" Ginny said flatly. "You know nothing about me or about Harry, so just…"

"And you, similarly, know nothing about me or my girlfriend, so do no persist to ask me about my feelings for her. Is that clear?"

"You are not the authority of me, and I will ask you about your feelings for your girlfriend if I want to!"

"You spoiled brat—you will not speak to me that way!"

"Don't talk to me like you're my father! You're not! If anything, you're becoming your _own_ father! You're growing to be just as arrogant and authoritative as him! It's pathetic! _You're_ pathetic!"

"I told you _not to speak to me that way_!" Malfoy hissed. He had stood. Ginny had hardly realized, for she was on her feet as well.

"I'll speak to you how I want to, _Lucius_," she growled before she could stop herself. It was a mistake. Malfoy raised his arm as though to strike her. She flinched, but no blow befell her. A sigh of relief was pressed from her when she found his arm lowering as his chest pulsed visibly fast even through his robes. The look upon his face drove her mad with confusion. She could not decide whether those striking features were distorted with anguish, or with fury. She did so wish at that moment that she could read people's emotions.

"I am sorry, Weasley," he snarled. Despite the annoyance with which he spoke the words, she felt they were genuine, and this boggled her mind. She was softened enough for a moment to give her own apology as well:

"Me too," she said quietly. "That time I really was provoking you, I guess."

"Yes," he said in a low, resentful voice, "but I was at a fault for reacting so viciously. I apologize."

Ginny was shocked by the calmness with which he admitted his own fault. Taken aback, her mouth fell slightly open, and she could feel that her eyes were wide in surprise. "This must be a first," she whispered.

She knew he had heard her, but he did not respond. He merely turned his nose up at her, looking down at her as though she disgusted him. "I find you entertaining," he growled, "but do not get used to my hospitality."

"Hospitality?" she asked incredulously. "You make it sound as though _I_ was intruding on _your_ time, when it was really the other way around! I was just sitting here! It was _you_ who decided to come along and ruin my brooding!"

"Oh, yes, how dare I interrupt a moment of pathetic self-pity?" He chuckled coldly, shaking his head as he did so. "I'm sure it must have been so enjoyable."

"Just shut up, Malfoy, and leave me alone, alright?"

He bowed dramatically. "Have it your way, Weasley. I was merely being friendly by sitting with you."

"Friendly?" she screeched, outraged. "You sat there with me out of pure dislike! You wanted to have a chance to poke fun at me… _again_!"

Malfoy said nothing, but merely turned from her with a mischievous smirk, his long, dark robes—so unnecessary in the summer warmth—fluttering behind him like an elegant cape. She watched him vanish as he delved further into the crowd of shoppers, his platinum blonde head eventually becoming too small for detection.

Irritation swimming angrily through her veins, she headed back down the cobbled street in the opposite direction, and left, shaken, to return to Grimmauld Place, hoping once there that she'd be able to rid her mind of the infectious disease that was Draco Malfoy's annoying sneer.

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews keep me happy! Please keep me happy!!!! 


	4. Candy

**A/N:** REMEMBER ABOUT THE SPOILERS, SILLY READERS!!

Mmkay, well, this chapter was strange to write. I'm afraid Draco finally got slightly out of character--sorry about that, but at least you've finally got the Draco/Ginny goodness I know you've been so waiting for!

-squeaks- I love babies, so this was also really FUN to write. neeheehee

* * *

By a happy accident, Ginny remembered that July 31st was only a week away. She fell comfortably into bed beside Harry that night, and it hit her just as his arm slinked unconsciously around her. She had forgotten entirely how soon Harry's birthday was, and had not even begun to think about what to get for him. She fell asleep with a headache, trying to think of something, though nothing occurred to her. 

The morning afterwards, Ginny woke up in time to see Harry off.

"This is nice, being able to see you in the morning," he said quietly, gazing at her as she poured them both bowls of cereal.

"It is," she agreed, taking her seat beside him at the table and sliding his bowl in front of him. He kissed her slowly before he began to eat, leaving her giddy and very red in the face. The sky was just barely light. The sleepy fog that seemed to hold the air in early mornings clouded the window pane. "I know Auror training must be ridiculous," she said with her mouth full. "But it will be over sooner than you think, right?"

"I suppose so," Harry said as he shoveled down a last bite of cereal. He drank the leftover milk directly from the bowl, before setting it down upon the table and getting to his feet. "I hate this early morning stuff," he said to her, yawning as she stood with him to walk him to the door. They slipped quietly down the hall so as not to rouse the portrait of Sirius' mother, and they stood, hand in hand at the doorway for a few moments.

"I'll see you later, I guess," he told her in a whisper, his eyes soft as they looked into hers.

She nodded, smiling up at him. Their kiss was slow and sweet, and Ginny suddenly was fighting the urge to giggle. Without warning, the snide face of Draco Malfoy swam into view, and she gagged against Harry's mouth.

"Sorry," she coughed. "I must be getting sick," she invented on the spot.

When Harry was gone, she stepped back into their room and kicked the side of her bed in frustration and anger. It was as though her second run in with Malfoy had poisoned her mind, like he had become a horrible voice in her head that left her feeling sour and angry all the time. She sat upon hers and Harry's bed once more, her arms crossed, and her lip pouting as though she were a small child. "He's even begun to interrupt my time with Harry, and he's not even here," she whispered furiously to herself.

"Who would this be, my future mistress?" Kreacher's low voice grumbled as he slinked, unnoticed, into the room.

Ginny leapt from her seat in surprise as he idled into view, but once calm, she said "Oh… no one, Kreacher, no one. That's nice of you to take interest, though." Everything she said to him sounded pitifully sweet, but she felt an obligation to do so. "I'm going to get dressed now, Kreacher, so if you could just, uh… leave, please…" He bowed himself from the room happily, and she slid on a summer dress. It was too hot for anything else. She enjoyed the breeze on her shoulders and chest, and around her legs.

She lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, letting the boredom wash over her. Her job at Fred and George's shop—George's shop—did not begin until Monday, and so the dull, swelteringly hot Saturday seemed to drag on an unnecessary amount. She stared emotionlessly for about a quarter of an hour until she found at last the strength and motivation to get up. Supposing she might as well go visit her mother again, she left the house with a yawn, and apparated.

Ginny stumbled through the back door of her old house stifling yet another yawn. She was beginning to wish she had not woken up so early, even if it was for Harry.

"Good morning, mum," she squeaked as she collapsed at the kitchen table.

"You again?" her mother joked. "Your father's here today, so if you stay, you'll be able to see him."

"Where is he?"

"He's asleep now, dear," Mrs. Weasley stated pointedly, glaring at her daughter. "I must say, I'm now led to wonder why you aren't, too. You were never one to wake up this early."

She shrugged. "I wanted to see Harry off to his Auror training," she sighed, "and I did, but now I'm really tired." A weak smile made its way to her face, but it tugged into another irritating yawn.

"Oh, well that was very sweet of you, dear," her mother said kindly. "I'm having Andromeda over this morning," she informed her, sitting across from her daughter. "We were going to talk for a bit. She's going to bring little Ted though, so maybe you could spend some time with him."

"Certainly!" Ginny exclaimed. She missed the boy greatly. Only a little over a year old, the child was already overflowing with eccentric personality, quite like his mother, but when he smiled, Ginny felt like she was staring at her old professor once again. "I miss him! Maybe I could take him shopping, or something!" She paused. "I've actually been doing that a lot recently: shopping, going for walks, and stuff. It's really boring in the house all day without a job."

"Oh, yes, how did looking for a job work out for you?" Her mother pressed.

Ginny smiled. "I'm working for George now."

"That's lovely, dear!"

"Yeah," she agreed.

"I think he'll like the company."

She tried to ignore the way her mother's eyes were watering, and how her strong expression was suddenly weakening as her chin twitched, threatening oncoming sobs. She quickly changed the subject. "So, mum, when's Mrs. Tonks coming over?"

"Oh," she blinked away her momentary pain, licking her lips. "Well, she said she'd apparate in about a half an hour. Teddy won't let her sleep, apparently. She had thought she was done with that after 'Dora grew up, but…" she trailed off, staring into nothingness.

Gazing over her mother's shoulder, her eyes fixed upon the door to the kitchen. They lit up as a tall, slim figure slouched his way into the room. "Dad!" she cried excitedly. She stood quickly, and swept the length of the room in several paces. Flinging herself into his arms, she hugged him tightly.

"Well, this is a nice surprise, Ginevra, dear!" Mr. Weasley proclaimed happily, a twinkle in his eye as he stared lovingly down at her. "Back over at this old home for two days in a row? What's been going on?"

"Oh, dad, I'm sorry I haven't been by so much, but Harry and I are just getting used to living together, so I've just kind of been… settling into it, y'know… but recently I've just been so bored over there all alone while Harry's off training to fight Dark Wizards and stuff; plus, I miss you guys, so… here I am." She said it all in what felt like a single breath. She snuggled into her father's robes as she squeezed him like the child she wished she could be again. She closed her eyes and let herself pretend that just for a little while, she was small again, and that she could just hug her daddy until forever, and not have to let go.

Her father chuckled against her. "We've missed you here, too, Ginny. It's been so quiet without our seven lovely children still scampering around. I can hardly believe you're all so grown up." His eyes flashed suggestively in the direction of his wife. "It makes me almost want to have another one," he laughed.

"Oh, gross, dad, please don't," Ginny said, making a face and pushing him away. She returned regretfully to her seat, still wishing she could just be a small kid again with her mother and father here to take care of her.

Mrs. Weasley was already bustling about to make her husband and daughter breakfast—again ignoring Ginny's insisting that she already ate some cereal. The reunion made Ginny feel safe and warm in a way that had nothing to do with the overpowering sun outside.

"So, Ginny," Mr. Weasley asked as his wife presented him with a plate of pancakes, "how does it feel to give away the Weasley name for that of Potter?"

Her heart lurched. "Will I have to?" she asked in a whisper.

"Of course not," her mother demanded. "You can be Ginny Weasley forever, if you want to! Or, Ginny Weasley-Potter, perhaps… yes, that sounds nice."

"No it doesn't," Ginny said with a laugh.

"Oh well," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "You do what you like with your name, darling."

"I never really thought about it, though," Ginny admitted. She had grown up with six brothers—she had never comprehended that it meant she'd be the only one to marry and change her name. Her brothers would all stay Weasley.

"It won't matter if you do change it, though," her father told her. "You'll always be a Weasley at heart, after all, and besides, there are still six Weasley boys to pass on the name, aren't there?"

Mrs. Weasley paused in whatever she was doing at the counter with her back turned to them. Mr. Weasley seemed to realize what he had said, and corrected himself quickly: "Five; there are still five Weasleys to pass on the name." He looked quickly at his pancakes, his face pale. Eyes still downcast, he went on in an attempt to smooth over the suddenly tense atmosphere. "We've already got another Weasley on the way, after all!"

Ginny had almost forgotten about it. Her insides felt suddenly on fire with excitement, and she split into a fantastically wide grin. "Oh, Bill's and Fleur's child is going to be so beautiful!" she squealed dreamily.

"Yes," her mother sighed in agreement, "that child must be a sight to behold. After all, Bill is quite the attractive young man, isn't he?" Her voice was soft with fondness for her son. Mr. Weasley and Ginny looked at each other behind Mrs. Weasley's back: they had both been thinking about the fact that the child was going to be part veela.

The three Weasleys ate together, laughing and chatting happily, glad to be back together. At least ten minutes passed before there was a knock on the door. Mrs. Weasley rushed to get it, and in her absence, Ginny and her father shared a comfortable smile. She returned seconds later leading a very worn-looking Mrs. Tonks into the room. She was holding a squirming baby in her arms, and Ginny noticed that her eyes were bagged as though she really hadn't been sleeping well. "Hello Mrs. Tonks," she said to the old woman, who gave her a warm grin.

"Oh, hello there, dear! Would you mind…?" She held Ted out for Ginny to take hold of as she sat. "Oh, thank you, dear, I'm really getting far too old for this, you know." She sat, wincing as she did so. "Ugh," she groaned in satisfaction and pain. "I feel like I've been on my feet for days."

"So begins a life with children!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, her eyes twinkling knowingly.

Ginny spoke then, though she could hardly take her eyes off of the year-old boy now giggling as he twirled a piece of her fiery red hair between his small, chubby fingers. "If you'd like me to take him for a day or two, Mrs. Tonks, I'd be glad to! Y'know, if you need a break…?"

"Oh, would you?" She looked utterly relieved, her eyes wide in gratitude. "Oh, thank you Ginny, dear! You're so good to me!" She leaned back in her chair. "Thank you," she said again, closing her eyes as though to fall asleep.

"So… you're going?" Mrs. Weasley asked her daughter, clearly disappointed.

"I think I'll take little Teddy out for a bit," Ginny giggled, playing peek-a-boo with the boy. She paused suddenly, excited, and turned to Mrs. Tonks. "Has he ever been to Hogsmeade?" she inquired. The woman shook her head. "Oh, he'll love Honeydukes!" she cried happily. "And Zonko's!"

"Don't get that kid _too _riled up on sweets, or I'll never hear the last of his sugar rush!" Mrs. Tonks called as Ginny began to wander towards the door already, excited at the prospect of taking Teddy out.

Mrs. Weasley cried, "And don't forget to come back and visit again!"

"Definitely not," Ginny assured her honestly. "This was really nice. We'll do it again, some time, okay?" At that, she left the house, and clung to Teddy's entire body as she apparated as carefully as she could. The baby's giggle of surprise at the sudden change in scenery elated her, and her desire to have children with Harry was heightened immensely.

"Yeah, wasn't that fun?" she cooed to the toddler in her arms. Teddy scrunched his nose at her, and instantly his hair—previously a dark straw-blonde color that was identical to his father—became a flaming red, and his nose was sprinkled with freckles. His eyes were the exact shade of brown as hers, now. Her heart throbbed for the poor boy, whose powers were reacting to a mother he didn't have. She had been told by Mrs. Tonks a few weeks back that Teddy's appearance often changed to match that of his caretaker, if he was not with Andromeda herself. She gazed distractedly into the wide eyes of the child, whose little fingers were patting his soft red hair as an entertained giggle passed his grinning lips. "Oh, aren't you just the cutest thing!" she squeaked, lifting him into the air and nuzzling him as his legs waved excitedly in front of her.

They strolled down the street together, the delight she felt at having a toddler in her arms making her seem to glow with mirth. She talked to him as they went, and she hugged him near to her.

She pointed up to the Hogwarts castle that was visible even from far away. "Look at that," she said airily to Teddy as he gazed in the direction she was pointing. "Look, isn't it beautiful?" He smiled and reached toward it, snatching at the air as though to grab the entire building in his tiny fist.

"Cattle," he mumbled excitedly, and she squealed.

"Yes, that's right! It's a castle! That's Hogwarts! I used to go to school there. Your mother and father did, too, actually, and your father actually taught there for a year. He was the best Defense against the Dark Arts teacher I ever had. Aren't you proud of your daddy?"

He squealed. "Dada!" he cried.

"Yes! Your dada! He taught there!" She hugged him. "Oh, you smile just like him, Teddy, and you even have his eyes—sometimes—when you're not making them funny colors!" She laughed at his still delighted expression.

She took him into Honeydukes, and could hardly suppress a squeal of adoration that burst within her as she watched his eyes light up in awe. She was far too afraid the boy would be trampled to put him on the ground and let him lead her, so she simply walked about the entire shop, showing him everything. Whatever excited him the most, making him clap and giggle and scream, she would buy for him without restraint. She could hardly resist those wide, watery eyes, or those tiny hands that wrapped themselves so lovingly around her shoulder and neck. When she'd filled her arms with as many sweets as she thought the boy could handle without resulting insanity, she headed for the register with a smile upon her face.

The smile was gone in an instant.

For the third time in three days, Draco Malfoy stood before her. He was leaving the front of the line, having clearly just purchased something.

She clutched Teddy close to her chest, and he snuggled her neck, his red hair tickling her chin. She gulped, feeling the softness of his fluffy hair shift against her throat. She watched him head toward her, looking into his bag to check on whatever he'd just bought. He didn't seem to have noticed her presence, thankfully, but it seemed against her will, she stepped in his path.

"You again," she confronted him in a falsely cheery voice. She didn't want to sound angry in front of Teddy.

Malfoy looked up, an expression of surprise evident upon his face for a moment, but it faded quickly into a full grin. "Well, well, Weasley; this is starting to become a regular thing, you and I, isn't it?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, shifting Teddy in her arms. "Yes, it's nice to see you too, Malfoy," she said sarcastically, but with a smile on her face.

She pushed passed him to get on the end of the line, trying hard to pretend he wasn't there. It was very difficult, however, as he had been on her mind—bothering her—all night and morning. Malfoy lingered around her, watching her intently. She turned her head to glare at him imploringly. "What are you staring at?" she asked in annoyance.

Malfoy nodded to Teddy, who was now fidgeting with Ginny's earlobe. "You have a…?" His eyebrows were raised high, and he was glaring at Teddy as though he were a mutant of some sort—something sick and ugly.

"No," she cut him off. "He's not mine, he's—"

Ted emitted a high-pitched giggle as he caught sight of Malfoy, and pointed excitedly at him. He grabbed the air in his direction, but Malfoy did not move closer, still staring at the child in confusion. "You're sure he's not yours?" His eyes were scanning the boy's hair, and drinking in the freckles.

"He's not," Ginny sighed in exasperation. "He's just—"

But her words were cut off as Teddy began to scream, leaning far over Ginny's arm to reach Malfoy. "He seems to… really want you, Malfoy," she said, her words difficult as she struggled to keep him steady in her grasp with the candy she was purchasing for him. The line moved slightly, and Teddy screamed louder, clenching and unclenching his small fists in Malfoy's direction as though to grasp a hold on him.

"Oh, here," Malfoy said. His tone was resigned and resentful, but he stretched out his arms, put his hands beneath Teddy's arms, and lifted him from Ginny's grasp.

"What are you—?" Ginny stared as Teddy stopped his screaming, and threw his arms happily around Malfoy's neck as he held him. Malfoy was frowning, but Teddy seemed utterly delighted to be in the arms of the white-blonde man. Quite suddenly, the boy's hair was no longer red, but the exact shade of platinum blonde as Malfoy's. "Oh, no," Ginny groaned. She didn't want Teddy influenced by Malfoy. "No, no, no, bad Teddy! Ugh, give him back, Malfoy," she demanded, feeling sickened by the sight of a boy with her eyes and freckles sporting Malfoy's hair.

Malfoy's lips were twitching as though he were trying desperately to resist the urge to smile. "Well," he said, peering into Teddy's face with an unusually warm expression, "the boy has certainly got taste."

The line moved again. "Give him back, Malfoy," she repeated.

"What, so he can start that irksome, persistent screaming again? I doubt it, Weasley."

She wanted to be fumingly angry with Malfoy, but the suddenly loving expression that crossed the man's features as he stared at Teddy in his arms was disconcerting, and confused her feelings. Watching him ignited a strange respect for Malfoy that she had never felt before. He was smiling fully now, murmuring baby sounds into Teddy's face, who looked entirely comfortable and happy in Malfoy's arms. The toddler stretched out his arm, and grabbed Malfoy's eyebrows. Ginny held her breath, expecting him to get angry and thrust the child back into her arms, but it didn't happen. Instead, to her very great and overwhelming surprise, Malfoy giggled—_giggled_—and stuck out his tongue to the boy, who laughed in return. It was so uncharacteristic of the Malfoy she knew, that she found herself too distracted to notice that she was finally first in line. The woman at the register was waiting impatiently, clearing her throat and making angry noises of irritation.

"Oh… sorry," Ginny apologized, dumping her armful of sweets onto the counter before her.

"That'll be three galleons and two sickles," the woman stated flatly.

"What—but I haven't—" Ginny's heart sank. She had only one of the necessary galleons. She began to count her sickles. She had sixteen sickles—one short of another galleon. "Damn," she muttered furiously. "I'm sorry," she said, starting to take back some of the sweets.

"They're for him?" Malfoy asked from the sidelines, still making faces at Teddy to make him laugh.

Ginny started. "Uh… yes," she said, confused. Was he—?

He was. He reached into his pocket and extracted two galleons.

"Oh, no, I couldn't, I…"

"Take it!" he said firmly, looking at her determinedly as Teddy pulled his hair happily. "It's not for you, after all: it's for him."

Something in her heart seemed to melt. "I—thank you," she said genuinely, taking the galleons from his hand. As her fingers touched his outstretched palm, an unusual chill ran through her, and she smiled at him. To her great surprise, he smiled back, though his eyes did appear to betray the same confusion she was feeling. He was obviously surprising even himself by his own generosity.

She paid for the sweets, and took her bag. She reached to take Teddy into her arms again, but Malfoy leaned away from her, and headed for the door of the shop, the boy now snuggling his arm. Ginny wanted dearly to take him back, but she couldn't bring herself to take him away from Malfoy, who Teddy seemed to have created some strange manly bond with. "That's sweet," she said warmly without thinking. Malfoy snorted.

"Children like me," he said with a sneer as they stepped into the blazing sun again. "I can't help it."

"You seem like a natural," she said with a laugh.

"Well, I can't think why. I'm not around children often, but whenever I am, they cling like little magnets to me, as though I am something much more interesting than I am. They cling as though I were their father, every time," he said coldly.

"Maybe you give off a fatherly vibe," Ginny suggested, looking pointedly at the way Teddy was so comfortably lying on Malfoy's shoulder and yawning quietly.

Malfoy gave a soft laugh, glancing down at the nuzzling head upon his shoulder as well. "I don't," he said simply. His eyes were glazed over as he stared at the toddler.

Ginny shrugged. "Well, with that hair, he sure looks like a son of yours." Her mouth twisted in a held-back smile. Malfoy did not respond. As they stood in silence, the weight of the passed two days seemed to lift, and she could hardly remember how furious she had been with him. Watching him smile at Teddy so lovingly made him sensitive, and human, and she could feel herself growing an odd soft spot for the man who was so touchy on the subject of his father, but seemed excellent as a father himself.

"So, should I ask it again?" she asked with a sigh.

"Hmm?" Malfoy hummed questioningly, looking up at her.

"Should I ask you what you're doing here, like I have been doing for the past two days?"

He held up his bag from Honeydukes. "I bought my girlfriend a box of chocolates for… well, for when I propose."

"So, when's it going to happen?" she asked.

"Today, actually," he sighed, looking back down at Teddy, who was yawning. Malfoy's brow was creased, and he was frowning. "Later today."

"That sounds nice," Ginny replied honestly. She realized suddenly that she and Malfoy were having—what certainly appeared to be—a civilized conversation, where she found herself speaking casually, and not yelling or snarling furiously at him. She silently thanked Teddy: she was not in the mood to get into another argument today.

She laughed quietly. "Give me back Teddy before this polite conversation gets any weirder."

He laughed derisively, and lifted the boy from his comfortable spot. He placed him swiftly in Ginny's waiting arms. She held the toddler to her, missing him, feeling protective of him due to the fact that he had no parents—just like Harry.

"So," Malfoy began, almost awkwardly, looking longingly after the child. "Whose is he?"

"Uh… actually… remember second year—or rather, your third year?" He nodded. "The Defense against the Dark Arts teacher that year… yeah… this is his son."

His eyes were wide, and his face was cold again. "_That's_ Professor Lupin's son?"

"Yes, it is," she said defensively, holding him tighter.

Malfoy scoffed. "Well, what ever happened to him, anyway?"

Something cold caught in Ginny's throat as she tried to tell him. Her heart felt tight, and her eyes were suddenly very wet. Swallowing, she managed to choke out, "Dead," before burying her face into Teddy's red t-shirt as tears began to flow uncontrollably. She had not yet mourned Remus' and Tonks' deaths properly, and now, with Teddy here in her arms—so warm and alive and happy—and a question about the whereabouts of his father, the sadness rushed forward. Teddy's shirt was wet, and his tiny hands tangling themselves in her hair as she cried only egged her on, her chest constricting as the sorrow suddenly burst and she started to sob.

A hand upon her bare shoulder surprised her. It was soft, though awkward as it patted her. "There, there," Malfoy's sneer came—as genuine as she had a feeling it was possible to sound in matters of consolation. "I'm, uh…" He seemed to choke on the word 'sorry,' but she understood.

"Thanks," she sniffed. "I appreciate it. I really do." Her voice was oddly high-pitched and strangled, and her face was still wet. Letting the bag of sweets slide down her arm to swing at her elbow, she used the now free hand to wipe her cheeks. She looked up at Malfoy again, to be—once again—surprised. Shock overtook her as he pulled from within his robes an immaculate handkerchief that was initialed with a fancy _D.M._

"What's this?" she hiccupped.

"What does it look like?" he snarled, looking away from her as though his own kindness disgusted him.

Ginny took it gratefully, but didn't use it. It was too purely white: she felt to use it would taint its beauty. "Thank—thank you," she stuttered, confused. To hold the delicate fabric in her hands made her feel strange, like it simply didn't belong in her hands or in her presence at all.

"It is nothing," he brushed her off. "You may keep it." He straightened his posture uncomfortably. "I should really be on my way, at the moment."

"Yeah," she said blankly, quite breathless with bewilderment at his strange kindness. "Yeah… bye."

"Weasley," he said curtly with a small nod, holding out his hand. She stared at it for a moment, before switching Teddy to her other arm, and taking it. His palm was warmer than she'd imagined.

She nodded back at him. "Malfoy," she stated. He turned to leave. A crowd of Hogsmeade shoppers walked in front of his departing form, and when they had passed, he was gone.

"Maffoy," Teddy repeated, twisting his fingers together. He was pouting—pouting at the absence of the least likely of people to take well to children.

"Yes," she breathed to her fiancé's godson: "That was Malfoy."

Teddy whined.

"I know: I'm surprised, too."

* * *

**A/N:** REVIEW, PLEASE!! THANK YOU!! YOU'RE DEEPLY LOVED!! 


	5. Key, Savin' Me

**A/N:** HERE'S A LONG ONE!! REMEMBER THE SPOILERS!! GO AWAY, YOU WHO HAVE NOT READ DH!!!!!!

ENJOY DRACO'S BEAUTY!

* * *

Ginny sighed as she rocked Teddy back and forth on her lap. The little boy's hair was still an irritating white-blonde, though his face was so sprinkled with freckles and his eyes so brown, that someone might have thought that she and Malfoy had meshed to become a tiny mixture of the two. "Come on," she cooed the toddler, "change your hair back before Harry gets home, why don't you?" She was sitting on her bed with the small boy sitting on her thighs as he rummaged through the bag of sweets that shared her lap with him. "Make your hair red, like mine! See?" She shook her hair in front of her eyes and waved her head above him so the stuff fell around him, caught in a waterfall of red. He gave a scream of laughter, grabbing fistfuls of her mane and giggling. She couldn't see him, her vision too obscured by her immense amount of hair. 

Harry's voice surprised her as it laughed, "Hey, Ginny." She looked up, quickly, but as Teddy's hands were still tangled in her hair, several strands were pulled from her scalp as he clung to them.

"Ouch," she winced, looking down at the toddler. His hair was red, like hers, once again. A sigh of relief escaped her. She didn't know why she wasn't telling Harry she kept running into Malfoy, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She knew he would make a big deal about it, and go mad to hear that Teddy had been anywhere near the man he so hated. "Sorry," she mumbled, blushing as she rubbed her sore scalp. "Hey, Harry. How was Auror training?"

He shrugged as he walked over to sit beside her on the bed. "Frustrating," he said, "but good." His face lit up as his eyes met Teddy's, and the boy smiled delightedly, reaching for Harry. His hair turned a sudden jet black, and became much messier than it had been when it was red. He kept the freckles and the brown eyes, however, and Harry Ginny stared down at what could have easily been their child. She and Harry shared an affectionate glance between them. "We could have kids that look like that some day," Harry sighed, a hand straying to the back of Ginny's head, stroking her hair.

"Hmm," she mumbled calmly in agreement, closing her eyes and letting the sensation of his hand in her hair erase all memories of Malfoy.

"Oh," Harry said suddenly, letting his hand fall from Ginny's soft hair, "Ron told me to tell you that Hermione misses you."

"Oh, thank you!" Ginny said with a laugh, opening her eyes sadly at the lack of contact with her fiancé.

"And," Harry continued, "that she's going to come into the Ministry tomorrow. She's going to get an application for a job, and she thought you might be interested in going with her and spending some time together."

Ginny beamed. "Certainly! Oh, I miss us all being together. We were so close. What happened?"

"We decided to get married, and Ron and Hermione decided to move in together."

"Oh yeah," Ginny laughed. She sighed. Her delight that Ron and Hermione had finally allowed themselves to be happy together was indescribable. "How are they doing, Ron and Hermione?" she questioned of Harry.

He scratched the back of his neck. "They're alright," he said with a yawn. Ginny unconsciously tried to smooth his hair as he went on: "Ron told me he wants to marry her."

"OH!" Ginny shrieked, squeezing little Teddy to her, who gurgled. "Oh, that's brilliant!" Her face was flushed, and she wrung her hands excitedly, doing the sort of dance most young children enact when they desperately need a bathroom, though she was still sitting. Harry laughed. "Oh, I'd be so happy if they got married! And I know mum would be, as well! She was so glad to hear they'd moved in together, remember?"

"Yeah," Harry mused. "Two weddings in a row, though: your mum might explode." He grinned dazedly at her, letting his forehead fall against hers as she looked up at him. She felt his scar against her bare skin, and smiled.

She shrugged, and lifted Teddy from her lap lazily. She stood. Harry watched her removing the bag of sweets from Teddy's grasp with the deepest adoration upon his face. "You'll be an excellent mother some day." She blushed.

"I hope so," she sighed.

"You will be!" he assured her. He stood, too, and kissed her, Teddy pressed between them, oblivious to the action taking place right above his head.

She exhaled dreamily, a distracted smile playing across her entire expression as her eyes slid nearly out of focus, staring at Harry. "And you will be a wonderful father," she breathed.

Once again—for the second time that day—she thought of Malfoy as she gazed at her fiancé. She remembered his odd talent for dealing with children, and the unfamiliar expression of sweetness on his face. She had to look away. She couldn't look at Harry with Malfoy on her mind. It felt weird to do so. She coughed to cover up her sudden awkwardness. "Sorry," she said again. "I forgot: I think I might be getting a little sick."

* * *

The next morning was one of confusion. Ginny had forgotten her promise to follow Harry into the Ministry so that she could meet up with Hermione. She was in a daze when Harry shook her awake. 

"Ginny," he was calling softly. "Let's go."

"What?" she whined. "I'm sleeping."

"I know," he laughed, "but you said you were going to come with me to the Ministry today."

Ginny groaned. "I forgot."

"It's okay, but it's time to go, now!"

She threw herself out of bed with a groan, and dressed, feeling Harry's eyes trailing over her as she flung an old t-shirt on over a pair of shorts. She threw on her witch's robes over the simple outfit so she would not be looked at suspiciously while at the Ministry, and turned back to her fiancé. "Where's Teddy?" she yawned.

"He's there," he said, pointing. "I summoned his crib from his grandmother's house."

She looked. The child was already awake, standing excitedly on his pillow, shaking the bars that kept him in as though they were his worst enemy. He was laughing happily as he did so, but moments later, he took a step to the side, tripped over his small pink bear, and fell. As sad as it was, Ginny couldn't help smiling at him. "He's just like his mother in the way of coordination, isn't he?" she croaked. She looked at Harry, whose face had grown depressingly solemn.

His green eyes were staring aimlessly at the ground, and he swallowed as he nodded, and choked out a small, "Yeah." Ginny hugged him, as tightly as though to squeeze away his sorrow. "Alright, Gin, alright," he waved her away. "Thanks, though." She smiled and nodded silently at him. She remembered again the awkward face of Draco Malfoy as he had so confusedly patted her shoulder to console her grief over the very same couple Harry was mourning now.

"_There, there_" echoed strangely in her mind as the image swam in her head, and she coughed again to rid herself of his stupid, pale face. Hating Malfoy with a sudden burst of rage, she cleared her throat, and said firmly, "Alright, let's go, Harry." She strode to Teddy, and lifted him from his crib. "I'll bring him back to Mrs. Tonks in a few hours, I guess," she said lazily.

"Sure," he agreed. Taking her free hand, he led her to the door. They exited Grimmauld Place, and apparated together, still hand in hand.

The Ministry was just as intimidatingly crowded as ever it had been. Ginny kept a firm hold on Harry's hand as he led her to the lift, clutching Teddy tightly to her anxiously. She felt bewildered as the grill shut behind them, and the lift sped downward. "Level Two: Department of Magical Law Enforcement," said an airy woman's disembodied voice. Harry pulled Ginny out of the lift while she continued to cling to Teddy, and once they were out, he finally let go of her hand. "Those are the Auror headquarters," he told her after leading her down a long hallway with magically enchanted windows. Harry led her through a door to their left, and Ginny found herself in what felt like a doctor's office waiting room, but much larger, and much cleaner. The witch at the front desk was chatting loudly on the phone as she chewed her gum. She paused for a moment to wave enthusiastically at Harry, and then continued her rapid talking. There were rows of seats, and small side tables beside each row were piled high in magazines.

Harry pushed her into a seat by the door, and Ginny let the toddler in her arms fall into her lap. "Hermione said she'd meet you in here," he said. "I've got to go to my training, though. It's just through that door." He pointed. Several sleepy looking witches and wizards were ambling into the room at which Harry was pointing, and as the door opened to admit them, Ginny saw a large, brightly lit room, in the middle of which sat a row of desks. It reminded her rather of an extremely spacious Hogwarts classroom, but much shinier, and with large magical windows that let brilliant sunlight stream across the sparkling floor.

Ginny nodded to Harry, who gave her a smile, a quick kiss, and a sweet "I love you," before hurrying off. She sat back in the chair. To her right was a table of magazines, and she shuffled through them uninterestedly as Teddy tugged her hair, waiting for Hermione, who was no where to be seen. Just as a magazine called "The Witch's Guide to Being a Bride" caught her eye and she began to flip through it over Teddy's shoulder, a familiar voice met her ears.

"I'm late!" Ron cried, bursting through the door and panting. "I'm late, I'm late! Hi, Ginny! Hermione's… here," he said distractedly, looking around. "I'm late!" At that, he ran. Ginny could hardly control herself laughing. He looked utterly ridiculous as he flung himself into the room Harry had disappeared through just minutes previously. Hermione strolled calmly into the waiting room after him, shaking her head at Ron as he dashed away.

"Hermione!" Ginny cried ecstatically, opening her arms wide to hug her.

The girl's face lit up. "Oh, Ginny!" she squealed. "Oh, it's so good to see you!" They hugged, squishing a giggling Teddy between them.

"It's great to see you, too!" Ginny smiled. Hermione seemed to glow as she stood there. "What's up? You look so… happy!"

"Oh, I am," Hermione agreed with a grin. "Ron and I are going so wonderfully. I never would have thought it could happen, but…well… it's happening! And here I am, having convinced Ron to let me get my own job!"

"What, he didn't want you to have one?"

"No, well, he was a bit of a prat when he heard I was thinking of going into Law Enforcement. He wouldn't stop telling me how dangerous it could be, and how he would never let me do something so foolish, but I eventually talked him into backing down."

"Well, that's good," Ginny nodded.

"Yes, it's lovely," she said. "I'm so excited. There's so much to learn about Law Enforcement that I don't already know! I can hardly wait to get my hands on their collection of books on Magical Law… it'll be so fascinating, I imagine!"

Ginny laughed. "Sure," she said. "I believe you."

"Oh, yes, and I heard you're going to start work at George's shop," Hermione stated with a smile. Ginny nodded. "How is he?" she then asked, her smile fading into a concerned frown.

"He's… uh…" Ginny shrugged.

Hermione gave her a watery smile that told her she understood. Her soft eyes were sympathetic. "Well," she said, "I came here for a reason, I believe!" She was clearly trying to change the subject, and Ginny went along with it.

"Go get 'em!" she said enthusiastically, punching the air encouragingly.

Ginny watched Hermione approach the woman at the desk apprehensively. They had a quiet conversation that involved a lot of pointing and irritated eye-rolls from the unknown witch. Hermione began filling out what looked like some sort of form, and eventually handed the paper to the witch, who then pointed her into a second door that stood beside the one Harry and Ron had gone through. Hermione winked at Ginny before entering it, and then slid out of view behind the glazed wooden door.

Silence filled the waiting room, save for the consistent yammering of the witch at the desk and Teddy's occasional gurgle or laugh. For several minutes, everything was still but her. Ginny leapt in her seat when quite suddenly the door opened to admit a small wizard, who scurried to the witch looking terrified. The witch at last told her friend goodbye, and began taking notes on whatever the wizard was saying. She then picked up the phone once more to make what sounded like an urgent phone call. The wizard left, panting nervously. Ginny watched him go wondering if scared people running in and out of the office was normal, and if that was the sort of thing Hermione would have to deal with by joining the Department. She supposed so, and this made her slightly queasy, wondering what the wizard's concerned expression had been about.

The same sort of thing happened several more times, all with different terrified people. Some stayed in the room, sitting near to Ginny, their knees bouncing up and down in anxiety. One time the witch at the desk got a phone call on a bright red phone to her left, and when she answered it, she began telling what sounded like a small child to calm down and let the Department deal with the break in to her house. Ginny started to get fairly nervous: over a span of a short half an hour, the office had become bustling with terrified people. Ginny could always tell who belonged to the Magical Law Enforcement Squad—they always looked calm. Everyone else either looked scared, or was in tears, while those who were calm attempted to keep them sane. It was rather nerve-wracking, Ginny found, and suddenly wasn't entirely sure she disagreed with Ron for thinking Hermione would be better somewhere else. At the moment, she was thinking of telling Harry to quit Auror training, but she swallowed down the thought for the sake of their upcoming marriage.

"This is getting ridiculous," a cold voice spoke from above Ginny's seat. She looked up into the exasperated face of Draco Malfoy without so much as surprise in her expression. Their constant run-ins were getting ridiculous, it was true, but after three in a row, she was hardly surprised this time, as though it had been a planned arrangement.

Ginny raised her eyebrows at him, smirking back at him. "It is," she said plainly. "I certainly didn't know you worked here, though." Teddy blinked, and his hair went blonde, staring avidly at Malfoy with an expression of utter delight.

Malfoy snorted. "Don't be stupid, Weasley," he snarled. "I am merely here to inform my fiancée's sister of our engagement. The two have not spoken for a long while, and she refuses to even inform her of the happy occurrence, so I am going to tell the woman in her place."

"Oh, so she said yes?" Ginny asked with a genuine smile, hugging Teddy to her as he began to grasp for Malfoy, just like the day before.

"Obviously," he sneered, staring at the toddler in her lap.

She laughed. "Sorry," she said, "I mean, that's just great, isn't it? Congratulations."

He shrugged. "I suppose," he sighed haughtily, as though anyone would love to be him at this moment, though it was plain from the look on his face and from his slouching posture that he could have cared less about the event. "Anyway…" He trailed off, making his way to the witch at the desk, who now looked flustered. Ginny watched a short conversation between the two, before the woman suddenly dropped the pen whose end she had been chewing on. Ginny clearly saw the words "you're _what_?" forming on her lips, and giggled at the look of shock and surprise upon her face. Whether or not the witch was happy, Ginny could not tell. Her expression was somewhere between horror and amazement, neither of which she was sure was a good thing.

Several moments later, the witch took a swipe at Malfoy with her clipboard, and shouted at him to leave her and her sister alone—even Ginny, on the other end of the room, heard it. The crowd got slightly quieter, but that didn't last long.

A minute following this entertaining incident, Malfoy returned to where Ginny sat looking rather pink, and puffed up with shock. He threw himself into the empty chair beside her, and mumbled something under his breath angrily. "Sorry?" Ginny inquired. "What did you say?"

"I said, I don't think I deserved to be shouted at. I didn't do anything wrong, after all."

"Well, what did you say to her that got her so upset?"

"I told her that her sister and I were engaged, and then I passed on the message my fiancée told me to give her if I really felt the need to tell her about our engagement at all." He unconsciously began to stroke Teddy's hair.

"What was the message?"

"Her words exactly—the message was to 'stop being such a mudblood loving fool, get over yourself, and just take the money offered you so you can be as rich as me.'" Malfoy snorted. "According to my fiancée, her sister seems to believe that money is the source of all evil, and that she should work for her own money, if she's to have it at all."

Ginny gave a short laugh. "And what's wrong with that? Money isn't everything, after all."

Malfoy simply looked at her blankly, taking his hand back from Teddy's soft head.

"Then again, if you're a Malfoy, money is everything! How silly of me," she said flatly, her tone sarcastic.

"No one in my family would be caught dead working," he confirmed, his eyes cold as he stared Ginny down.

She sighed. "That's really quite a shame. Working can be very fulfilling."

"Oh, is that so? And what exactly is it that _you _do for a living, Miss Weasley?"

She swallowed. "I, uh…"

He was watching her intently, lounged lazily in the chair as though it was his throne. It was strangely intimidating, the way he seemed so comfortable in such a tense environment. It was like he fed off of the surrounding stress and worry. "You what?" he asked as she seemed to have forgotten her voice.

"Oh, I, uh… I work for my brother, George, now… at his joke shop."

He didn't bother to restrain his snort of amusement. "Well, that's certainly fitting," he sneered.

"Shut up," she growled. "What would you know about it?"

"George," he muttered to himself, contemplatively, "George…" He tapped his chin, thinking. "Oh, was he one of the twins?"

She swallowed. "Yes," she said.

"What's the other twin's name—?"

"Why do you care?" she spat, cutting off his last word.

"I—" He looked taken aback. "I was merely taking an interest, Weasley, I'm sorry if that offended you."

She sighed, feeling suddenly guilty. "No, no," she said apologetically. "Sorry about that, I just—well, it's…" Should she tell him? Did he deserve to even know? He was certainly being friendly enough. She hugged Teddy tightly, sniffing. "The other twin was Fred," she said solemnly, hoping he'd get the message.

He clearly did. "Was…? Oh." He said no more on the subject, though his fingers twitched randomly toward her armrest where her hand rested, as though to grab her hand. He didn't, and he covered his sudden spasm by scratching his thigh awkwardly. She did not mention her notice of the motion, for she knew it world embarrass him, but she had a feeling she knew he had just resisted a kind gesture, and this warmed her in a very strange, new way.

Changing the subject—partially to escape the awkwardness, and partially to distract from the odd heat developing inside her—she said suddenly, "So, tell me about your new fiancée. What's she like?"

After some thought, he grunted, "Small," then thought some more. "Rather light," he continued. "She looks a lot like that witch," he said, gesturing toward the woman at the desk, who was glaring at Malfoy from across the room. "But she's shorter, and thinner. A dancer," he sighed.

"Okay," she said, "but what's she _like_? Y'know… what kind of a person is she?"

He sneered. "Oh." He stayed silent for a moment before—to her surprise—he shrugged and said ambiguously, "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Ginny asked. "Why don't you know?"

"Well, I mean… she likes to see pain," he laughed. "She loves torturing small animals." Ginny's look of horror made him laugh. "I know she was—during his short time in power during our lifetime—a supporter of the Dark Lord."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Of course she was."

"She likes, uh…" he seemed deep in thought. "She likes the color red, and… she hates her sister, who was the only one of her family not to be in Slytherin. She was a Hufflepuff, see. Oh, and I know that she's rich, because her father left her—but not her sister—a whole lot of money."

"She sounds like you, but with a sister like Sirius Black," she said, glaring at him.

"What—? Her sister is not a murderer," he told her defensively.

"Neither was he," she growled, clutching Teddy's hand that was snatching for Malfoy once again.

"Oh… yeah… that's right." He shrugged. "Then I suppose you're right—she is, except that I'd never torture small animals."

"Well, that's good to know," Ginny scoffed.

At that moment, a head of bushy brown hair appeared before her. "Ginny," she said cautiously. She was clearly bursting to talk to her, but was hindered by Malfoy's presence.

"Oh, Hermione!" she exclaimed in surprise, having forgotten her original reason for being there. "I—hi!"

Shifting Teddy into her arms so he was secure there, she stood, and Malfoy followed suit. "So sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "I shall see you around, I suppose, by accident, yet again." He bowed slightly, and left with a quick swish of his cloak.

Hermione gave Ginny a meaningful look. "_Malfoy_ was here?" she said in confusion.

"Oh, yeah, he was, just bothering me like back at school," Ginny lied with a shrug. The truth was that she was beginning to grow a strange soft spot for her run-ins with Malfoy, as though she were making a new and extremely dislikeable friend.

"Well," Hermione breathed, "I just hope you're not letting him get under your skin like Harry did so often when we were at Hogwarts." She crossed her arms and looked at Ginny pointedly, a smile pulling at her mouth. "Anyway, Ginny… I just went in there to have an _interview_ with the head of Magical Law Enforcement, and he decided he likes me! He wants to put me in the training program for the Magical Law Enforcement Squad—possibly as a Hit Wizard, or as one of the Wizengamot. He said he'd heard of me from Harry and even from Scrimgeour, who had apparently mentioned to him that I had an impressively extensive knowledge of Magical Law, even when I was just seventeen! Oh, I was so pleased, but anyway, he says he really wants me to join, and, and…." She seemed giddy, and unable to speak. Her face was flushed a brilliant red, and her hair looked somehow wilder than usual. Ginny could only imagine what she'd be like if Ron were to propose to her. The thought provoked an involuntary grin to fly to her lips, but she let it, not bothering to hide it. "Oh, it's just so exciting, Ginny!" Hermione squealed in conclusion to her rant.

"That's wonderful, Hermione," Ginny beamed at her friend. "So when do you start?"

"Oh, he said he wants me to begin next week, and the training program is only a year long, so it should really be pretty easy, I think. I mean, I know pretty much everything already; I've been reading stuff about Magical Law every since I found out I was a witch, after all!"

"That's really great," Ginny said, "really, really excellent. Congratulations." She was reminded of telling the very same thing to Malfoy when he had informed her of his new engagement, and smiled.

"It is," Hermione agreed, her cheeks still a joyful red, and together, they set off out of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, their arms linked happily as they went.

Hermione and Ginny spent the majority of their day at the Leaky Cauldron, though they apparated to Mrs. Tonks' house once to drop Teddy off and summon his crib back to its rightful place. They laughed over glasses of firewhiskey, and discussed Ginny's wedding. "I can't believe you're getting married," she said wistfully. "Oh, I remember how it was when you were in your first year—"

Ginny laughed. "Well, I certainly don't," she said, her tone light, but her heart suddenly feeling constricted, "seeing as I was possessed for most of it."

"Oh," Hermione said, blushing. "That's right. Well, that's not what I was talking about, anyway."

"Yes, yes," Ginny assured her, "I know. I was little, then."

"You were," Hermione sighed. "And Harry, he was so small in our first year—so underfed and withdrawn." Ginny remembered, with a smile upon her face. "I can't believe you guys are…" Tears were welling visibly in Hermione's eyes as she gazed dreamily into space.

Rolling her eyes, Ginny gave a small laugh. "Oh, now really, Hermione… there's no need to get all mushy."

"'No need to get all…'—are you kidding? I'm just so happy for you and Harry, that's all! I can't help it, Ginny, I'm sorry!" Hermione was squealing with excitement.

"That's alright, Hermione: I understand."

Another hour later, Hermione was found checking her watch. "Oh, God," she was saying: "I was going to go to the library to get done some extra reading on the laws surrounding criminal trials; I feel like it would be useful to learn a bit more about that, if I'm going to be training to be a part of the Wizengamot."

"That sounds nice," said Ginny sweetly. "You enjoy yourself. I think I'll just sit here for a bit."

"Okay, well—keep in touch, Ginny," Hermione said with a shaky smile, as though it was their last meeting for a very long time. They hugged tightly.

Once Hermione was gone, Ginny felt strangely alone. She thought of Harry, and felt warm—though it might have been the firewhiskey she was so happily consuming. She sat back in her chair, letting the burning sensation calm her. She smiled, and put her feet up on the table before her. She felt very relaxed as she closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

It was very sudden, the now-familiar laugh she heard from behind her. She jumped, but was hardly surprised to hear it. "Twice in one day, Malfoy?" she asked, her smile evident even in her voice. "That's a record."

"Isn't it?" he sneered rhetorically as he sat beside her.

"So what brings you here? Wouldn't you want to be with your new fiancée?"

He was silent. She opened her eyes, and lowered her feet from the table, glancing over at him. He was twiddling his thumbs in his lap, and staring strangely at her. "Actually," he said slowly after a while, "I was going to look for you."

She was taken aback. "How did you know I'd be here?" she asked.

"Oh, I didn't," he informed her, a smirk on his face. "I was just passing through here on my way to find you in your brother's joke shop—you said you worked there, after all.

"Ah," she said, understanding. "Well, that job doesn't actually start until tomorrow, so it's just lucky I was here by coincidence." She smiled. "So, anyway, what did you want from me?"

He licked his lips haughtily, and straightened himself in his seat. He looked remarkably like his father for a moment as the dim, flickering light that hung from the ceiling of the bar played chiseling shadows over his handsome face. His hair had grown, too—it was hardly as long as his father's hair, but it was longer than she remembered it being back at Hogwarts, and it added to his more mature stature that made him seem so like Lucius Malfoy.

Crossing his arms, he looked pointedly at her.

"Okay, so don't answer me," she said, annoyed, "but the fact that you were looking for me makes this time much less of an accident."

'I suppose it does," he agreed. "It is strange how often we have been so accidentally meeting. I find myself amused by it."

"Me too," she laughed, stretching as she gulped down more firewhiskey. "So, what's up?" she asked conversationally.

"I fancied a word with you," he said with a smirk.

She raised her eyebrows. "Okay," she said slowly, "and are you planning at any time to let me know what about?"

He chuckled. "Well, actually, about my wedding."

"Ah, weddings," Ginny said knowingly—completely contradictory to the fact that she hadn't a clue what she was doing about marriage. "Weddings are nice. Very romantic." She nodded, a goofy smile on her face.

Draco Malfoy stared at her. "Are you slightly drunk?"

"No," she hissed defensively, "but I might be getting there, so go ahead: what's on your mind?"

She watched the wheels turning behind the very blonde head, though he was beginning to go slightly out of focus. _Too much firewhiskey_, she realized, taking another wonderfully burning swig. Malfoy seemed to be thinking hard as they peered at one another, and then he said:

"I'm having doubts."

"_What_?" Ginny spluttered, ignoring what spilled down her front. "Have you told _her_ this?"

"No," he sneered.

"Then why are you telling _me_?"

"Because…" he said loudly, though his tone was choked as though he was trying desperately not to shout at her. "_Because_," he said more calmly, "you're the only other person I know who's getting married, and I wanted to know if that's normal."

"You also know _your fiancée_… she's getting married, too!"

"I don't," Malfoy said in a low voice that was halfway to a whisper, "really trust her." He looked almost ashamed.

Ginny sat back, one arm draped over the back of her chair, and the other swinging the bottle of firewhiskey between her legs. "So, does this mean you don't love her?" she asked accusingly.

Malfoy cleared his throat, and looked furious again. "That," he snarled, "is still to be decided."

"Why did you ask her to marry you, then, if you don't know if you love her?"

"Because, _Weasley_," he growled, his tone suddenly wildly mad, "of reasons you will never understand."

She fell silent, staring at his face doubling in an odd, ghostly manner. The firewhiskey was getting to her. She frowned, watching four pairs of grey eyes shifting from side to side. It was making her dizzy. "Whatever," she said indifferently, still watching his thin form spin before her. "If you don't love her, don't marry her. That's my conclusion. If you love her," she paused to drink again from her bottle, "then marry her, and I'll admit she's a lucky girl to have you." Her eyes scanned his body, but doing so made her eyes cross.

"You don't look at all well, Weasley," he sneered, his face awkward, though she could not make it out properly.

"No, no, I'm serious," she slurred. "Any girl would be lucky to have you, 'specially as a father to a child of hers, yeah?"

"Stop your sweet talking, Weasley, or people will think we're something like friends." She had looked away from him, and could not have known that he was now looking increasingly awkward.

"You'll be…" she said slowly, "…an excellent father…" she yawned, and put her head down on the table, "…some day."

Her snores began to fill the Leaky Cauldron, and she was then blissfully unaware of Draco Malfoy's irritated sneer that watched her as she slept.

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**A/N:** REVIEW, PEOPLE, OR I'LL BE SAD!!!! 

Oh, and I'm sorry for the mention of a phone in the wizarding world... but if you can come up with a better way for them to get messages to each other instantaneously--not owls, they're not actually instantaneous--then please let me know! I was thinking patronuses, but then... most wizards can't make them, anyway, because they're so difficult! Oi, what an irritating thing to think up. Let me know, if you can think of anything.


	6. Collide

**A/N:** Not even bothering a spoiler alert. Ugh. Too lazy.

So anyway, here's a shorter (and much more exciting) one for y'all! If you've stuck through five boring chapters so far, I'm impressed! You deserve this much more eventful chapter, after all that seemingly useless boredom. It was all leading up to this, after all (no, no sex yet! sorry!), and I'm pretty sure you'll be glad to finally get to that DG action you've been so waiting for!

Honestly, I'm surprised I've gotten this far without giving up. That's new for me. I can't wait to keep going! It's so weird! I just can't seem to stop writing it! Yaay!

ENJOY THE CHAPTER, MY LOVELIES!

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Something painful was pressing on Ginny's forehead. She felt extremely sick. "Ow," she mumbled under her breath. 

"Finally, Weasley," someone's unwelcome drawl was saying somewhere to her right, "you're awake."

Ginny sat up. She could not remember lying down. All she could remember was Draco Malfoy—his cruel, pale face; his stupid, irritating sneer; his awkward, concerned touch upon her shoulder.

"Where am I?" she garbled. "What happened?"

Draco Malfoy's sigh sounded annoyed. "You barely had any firewhiskey, and passed out anyway. Have you ever even drunk the stuff before? It certainly didn't seem like it." She turned to look at him. He was sitting on a small, spindly chair several feet away from her. His expression was cool and calm as he gazed fixedly into her eyes. The determined stare was making her shiver, despite the heat of the day.

Glancing around, she realized she was on a bed, and the room was unfamiliar.

"Where am I?" she asked again.

"I remained by your side to make sure you were soon to wake up, but after an hour, I decided it was not likely. You were beginning to receive stares from surrounding customers, so I took the liberty to book you a room and drag you up to it for these past few hours." His tone was unconcerned and lazy, but something light—like a feather—seemed to have replaced her insides. It was too strange that someone so cruel was being something that could be kind to her.

Ginny sniffed as she shifted her weight. Malfoy's voice hummed in her ears painfully, and she kept her eyes shut to the blinding sunlight that poured in as she asked, "Why?"

She heard him give a short laugh. "'Why' what?"

"Why did you bring me up here?" She rubbed her eyes, groaning as the pressure there slightly relieved the pain.

"Oh, please, Weasley," he sneered. "You think that I would simply leave a woman in distress to a room full of drunken wizards—even one as frustratingly and pathetically independent as yourself?"

"I was not in distress!"

"You were unconscious."

She did not answer. She'd had firewhiskey once before, but had never known how much she could handle. Now she knew.

"Why did you stay with me, though?" she asked, opening her eyes at last to glare at him suspiciously.

He looked down his pointed nose at her, sitting back in his chair. "It would have been rude to leave you alone here," he said flatly, and it was impossible to discern his expression.

"Well… why did you even bother to get me a room?"

"Like I said, Weasley, you were attracting unwanted attention from the wizards around you." His eyebrows rose in faint amusement. "An unconscious woman is much easier than one who can walk and talk," he stated.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, that's disgusting, Malfoy! Why would you say that?"

"So many 'why' questions, Weasley. You are far too inquisitive."

"Yeah, well, I've got another," she said angrily, crossing her arms and turning to swing her legs over the side of the bed. "Tell me why you're marrying a woman you hardly know, and clearly don't trust."

His face contorted with rage, but she had seen it so often over the previous days that she could hardly find it shocking anymore. Though a feeling of slight intimidation prickled her skin as she stared right into Malfoy's grey eyes, she did not look away or back down. "That," he said suddenly, his voice greased sickeningly with hatred, "is none of your business, blood-traitor."

"Don't call me that!" Ginny shouted. "And yes, it _is_ my business now: you came to me last night to ask me about doubts before a wedding, and that implies—to me—that the situation is my business!" She was fuming, irritated to her very bones by his continued evasion of the subject, though so voluntarily bringing it up with her. "If you don't want me to get involved, then why don't you just stop talking to me about you and your stupid fiancée?"

Malfoy stood swiftly. The chair crashed to the floor behind him as his violent motion knocked it over. "I never meant for you to get involved, Weasley, but coincidence keeps intervening, and I just can't seem to escape you! It's like you're everywhere, you stupid, trying, irksome brat!"

"Well, maybe it isn't coincidence!" Ginny's head was throbbing at all their shouting, but she wasn't one to back down from an argument with the consistently instigating Malfoy. "Maybe it's _fate_ throwing me into your life to tell you that you shouldn't have to marry someone you don't love!"

"Fate?" Malfoy shrieked, sounding utterly mad as he did so. "_Fate_? You think fate cares about my love life? I do not have love to give! I will _never_ have love!"

"Oh, stop your pathetic self-pitying! _Everyone_ deserves love!"

Malfoy was suddenly ripping back the sleeve of his shirt. It had never occurred to Ginny that he was wearing long sleeves, and now that it did, she realized quite how odd it was in this boiling weather. She was taken aback by his sudden motion, however, unable to cogitate over this realization for long, and found herself cringing as he was unexpectedly shaking his arm in her face. He was too close to her for comfort, and her heart was beating fast in terror. "DO YOU SEE THIS?" he shouted, wild with sheer fury, "_THIS_!" She looked. A horrible scar upon his forearm formed a gross looking skull, what might have once been a more obvious snake protruding from its mouth: it was a Dark Mark, faded into nothing but a nastily unpleasant looking scar. She felt sick to look upon it, but could not pry her eyes away as he held it in her view. "_You see_?" he cried, "_This_ is my reminder! This mark will forever be a reminder of the things that I have done—the things that I cannot undo, that have meant the deaths of so many, and that prove the _worthlessness_ of my self! I will _never _deserve love after the things that I have done, and this scar will now, _always_, be my _constant reminder_!"

He was fuming, panting, his nostrils flared and his eyes popping like a madman. Never had Ginny seen such anger and agony etched into a single face; never had Ginny ever felt more for Draco Malfoy than she did in that moment, as he glowered over her shaking body. She had fallen back to the bed: she was propped up precariously by her elbows as he leaned over her, his right hand on the bed beside her while his left arm was held firmly before her face. In spite of the compromising position, and the total and absolute hatred spread upon his snarling face, she felt her heart break for the man making her now cower. "Draco," she whispered, not even realizing her use of his first name.

"SHUT UP," he cried, and she saw his eyes grow red while his face drained of color. His jaw was clenched horribly, and his hands both in fists, and she knew his inner anguish had boiled unexpectedly to his brim, and he was now struggling to keep himself in check. "SHUT UP, YOU _FILTHY_ BLOOD TRAITOR!" he was raging: "DO NOT USE MY NAME AS THOUGH WE ARE _FRIENDS_!" He leaned closer, his furious, pale face so close to hers now that flecks of his saliva were hitting her face. "_WE ARE NOT FRIENDS_!"

In an uncontrollable flare of sympathetic sorrow that Ginny could not explain, she pushed herself up, tilted her head slightly, and let her mouth collide with his.

It was a very odd feeling, his cold, quivering lips on hers. She was confused. What was she doing? Why was she doing it? Why had she even had the urge to do it? His lips were soft, and strangely tender, and they made her feel light—she may have even been floating, but she could not tell. His wide eyes were a chilling tint of silver as they stared with surprise and persistent fury into hers, and as Harry's face swam into her mind, she came suddenly crashing back to earth. Yanking herself away from him with a gasp, she felt tears well in her eyes. "Oh God," she panted, breathless from the brief interaction: "Oh, God… what am I—Oh God, I'm so sorry," she told Malfoy in a terrified whisper.

Ginny's headache was worse than it had been a moment ago. She tangled her fingers in her long hair with a groan of shame. "Oh, Malfoy, I don't know why I—I'm so sorry, that was—"

Confused, she slid herself from the bed, hands still in her hair. She was now pacing, her teeth gritted, and she looked utterly mad.

"God, this is stupid," she cried, throwing her hands up from their nest so that her mane of red hair was a wild bunch that hung from her head. "This is entirely _your_ fault, Malfoy!" She pointed frantically at him.

He had been hunched over the bed, but was now straightening up in another rush of infuriation. "_My_ fault? It was_ you_ who initiated that…" he went mute on the word 'kiss,' but he didn't have to say it.

Ginny made a sound of irritation. "_You_ were the one who was all 'oh, poor me, give me love!'"

"I was _not_!"

"And then with the annoyingly attractive _anger_," she went on heatedly, not looking at him, "and the sympathy-provoking _yelling_, it was all kind of… stupidly _passionate_, and, well… _this is entirely your fault_!" She felt the need to redeem herself—to explain her reasoning—but she didn't think she was explaining it right.

"But you didn't have to go _kissing me_!"

"_It was in the heat of the moment_!" she screeched. "_I'm sorry_!"

"'The heat of the—'"

"Oh, please, don't tell me you weren't thinking of taking advantage of me in that position!"

"Well—I—that's…" Malfoy seemed inflated, and his face was pinker than Ginny could ever remember seeing it. He flung his hands up in irritation. "None of this would have happened if you hadn't gotten drunk!"

"I didn't know what I was doing!" Ginny cried. "I've never gone drinking before!"

"Well, you should have thought of something like_ this_ happening before you decided to start!"

"How was _I_ supposed to know that this would—?"

"Well, you were the one who was talking about _fate_, and whatnot! Don't ask _me_!"

"You're not even making sense anymore! I could _never_ have known we'd end up—!"

"_This never happened_," Malfoy hissed.

"Thank _God_," Ginny spat. "You have no _idea_ how disgusting it would have been if it _had_ happened."

"Oh, I think I can have some idea," he grumbled, his brow terrifyingly low.

"Then thank goodness it never actually happened, right?"

"Yes—thank heavens."

An awkward silence rang mockingly in the absence of their shouting. They stared feverishly at one another from across the little rented room, glazed silver piercing brown with a terrible heat. Both bodies were out of breath, panting as they attempted to calm themselves. Neither voiced it, but they both knew that passion had been there, and that an unwanted sense of lust was still lingering between them.

Ginny opened her mouth as though to say something, but suddenly realized she didn't know what she was about to say. Should she apologize—again? Should she tell him never to come looking for her again? Somehow, she didn't want to do either. All she could think to do was turn silently away from him, and sweep from the room without a look back.

Her head was still pounding viciously as she strode quickly away from the room, and the words she had lost the heart to say before she left were beating angry red bruises of guilt against her continually throbbing skull.

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**A/N:** Yay! Review! 


	7. I Hate Everything About You

**A/N:** This chapter made me crazy. It's hard to write when you're distracted by a vicious pain in your jaw, have you ever noticed that? I decided to go ALL OUT on this chapter to distract myself from the soreness, so you've finally got it. FINALLY, the kind of thing all DG shippers enjoy to read about. So sorry if it feels out of the blue, but that was kind of my point: it IS out of the blue. It's random, unexpected, and SO very not what either of them wanted, but it's strong, and they can't keep themselves away! Mwahaha!

Love to you all! Enjoy!!

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Two days had passed. Ginny had expertly pushed her encounter with Malfoy to the very back of her head, pretending it had never happened. She spent her time at home, if she was not at work for George, hoping no more terrible coincidences would get in the way of her sanity again. The day afterwards, she sat down with Harry to distract herself, and asked him heatedly if they could get married as soon as possible. Harry's delight had taken her mind off of her shame for at least a few hours as they planned a date. August 14th was the decided date—three days after Ginny was to turn 18. The marriage seemed much more real, now that a date had been chosen, and while this certainly took her mind off of her overwhelming guilt, it simultaneously made her guilt an even stronger presence in her mind: for she had kissed Draco Malfoy when she knew she was going to get married. 

Trying to ignore her pounding, shameful thoughts while she was at work, she listened to Hermione talk. The woman had come to keep her company for a while, and for this, Ginny was grateful.

"Y'know, I really thought I'd do well in Law Enforcement," Hermione was saying, "but when the head of the Department told me that joining the Squad would not enable me to make enslaving House Elves illegal, I just… well, I'm not sure I can do it anymore." She crossed her arms, glaring at Ginny where she stood at the register in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. "I'm actually thinking, now, of joining the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I'm not saying I'm giving up Law Enforcement—I mean, I do think it could work for me, but I can always go back to it after making certain that House Elves get more fair treatment! Wouldn't you agree, Ginny?"

"Oh, yes," Ginny agreed without even knowing what she was saying. "That'd be good."

Hermione smiled. "So, how's work going here?" She glanced down at Ginny's bright maroon robes with a grin.

Ginny shrugged. "It's good."

"Can you see it lasting?"

"Not really, no, but it's good for now."

Hermione leaned her elbows on the counter, gazing sadly at George as he wandered about the shop. He was enthusiastically encouraging his customers to buy, accompanied by Lee Jordan, but it was a sad sight all the same. Even as the two girls stared, Hermione asked, "What would you want to do if you weren't here?"

"Maybe Quidditch," Ginny sighed.

"That sounds nice," Hermione said stiffly, clearly not approving of sports as a profession.

Hermione kept her company for most of her day, which was otherwise unbearably boring. She sold countless products to countless customers, and this proved an excellent distraction from the reality that was nagging at the back of her head: that she had kissed Draco Malfoy. Her guilt kept her a happy saleswoman, cheery and boisterous to whoever approached her. She had not looked at or even touched Harry beyond a grazing of their hands. She was doing everything wrong, and she knew it. She felt worse by the moment, hoping against hope that, with time, she'd forget about what she had done.

When Hermione left, Ginny was abandoned to her brooding. "Stop it, Ginny," she muttered to herself in shame. "You're pathetic. Nothing happened."

The lasting hour of her shift seemed to drag on for an eternity. Uncertain it would ever end, she began to wonder if she would actually die of boredom at that counter in the middle of a sale, making George go even madder with even more grief. She sighed to herself, waiting for it to end.

It took forever, but George's voice calling "Ginny, you can leave!" seemed the most beautiful sound in the world. The moment in which she had kissed Malfoy had been turned over so many times in her head—replayed to make her guilty—and she was sick of it. Glad for a chance to forget it, she left the shop in a hurry. It was dark already, by the time she stepped through the door, and the moonlight played eerie shadows upon the face of a man standing right beside the door, frightening her as she passed him. She jumped in shock, turned, and let out an irritable groan as she rolled her eyes.

"Go away," she told Malfoy flatly, walking away from him.

He followed her. "I will not," he sneered. "I refuse to let this confusion exist inside me anymore; it is unfitting for the life I am trying to live!"

"Oh, please," she sighed, walking faster down the moonlit street.

"I am serious, Weasley," he snarled, managing to keep up with her as she strode so quickly. "I cannot live with these thoughts of that incident. We need to end this."

"Okay, so kill me," she said plainly, stopping in her tracks and turning to face him. Looking properly at his face for the first time that night, she was stunned as her thoughts found themselves admiring his chiseled features in the darkness. He looked so strangely handsome when deep in shadow, dappled blue highlighting his prominent cheeks and pointed nose.

"What?" Malfoy puzzled.

"That's how you Malfoys end everything, isn't it? By whipping out your wands and dueling? Let grief be damned, let's just kill anyone who bugs us!" Ginny shook her head. "You're pathetic."

Feeling her heart expand in confusion, she turned away from him again, preparing to stomp off in a huff. Rough hands on her shoulders were almost unconsciously expected to be felt, but she was still shocked by it as it happened. He was holding her to face him, trapping her so she could not run away again. "Why did you do it?" he asked wildly, jerking her in his grasp.

"I didn't!" she cried. "We decided it never happened, remember?"

"Well, I'm not easily rid of such revolting memories as you are, it seems, so help me to forget it happened—help me! Tell me why you kissed me!" His eyes were piercingly beautiful, tantalizing her as they darkened with a need to know.

She had no answer to his question, however. "Why would that help?" was her response. Her expression was annoyed, but his furious one outdid hers by miles, intimidating her voice into quivering slightly.

He was inexplicably panting as though winded, and this did not aid her attempts at being indifferent to him, for as his chest heaved with his thick breaths, she felt a pleasing sensation boil in her lower stomach. "Just tell me _why_!" he growled.

She forced herself from his grasp, glaring at him. "Did you just come here to torture me, Malfoy?" she cried, avoiding the demand again. "This is getting _beyond_ ridiculous, now. The last time we met, you made a point to shout that we were not friends, and yet, here we are again!"

"You've gotten into my head, Weasley," he scowled, his face dark. "You're in here," he said in a broken whisper, putting a hand to his head, "and you won't leave me the bloody hell _alone_!" His statement transformed into a roar by his last word.

"So, what, you thought you'd just waltz down to my brother's shop, talk me to death, and I'd finally be out of your life for good?" she laughed shrilly. "Is that it?"

"No," he sneered. "I would never wish death upon you."

Her heart danced, but her tone remained stubbornly furious. "Is that some sick form of Malfoy sweet talk? Did you think you'd come and annoy me until I kissed you again? Is that it, then? Did you come back for more?"

"I find you distractingly attractive!" he yelled. "It's driving me mad!" It did not escape Ginny's notice that he did not answer her question directly.

"Oh, God," Ginny moaned in horror, collapsing her head into her hands and turning away from Malfoy for a third time. "Oh, God, you're completely crazy, aren't you?" She was hysterical with outrage as she spun back to him. "You're completely barking mad! You are! You're trying to seduce me!"

"Stop putting words into my mouth, Weasley!" Malfoy spat.

"Then go away, so I can stop thinking things to put there!"

"What, my mere presence makes you think I am _seducing_ you?"

"Not seducing! _Torturing_! You stand there, so stupidly bold, and irritate me until either you get so mad that you leave, we have a conversation so polite that we're freaked out and both have to leave, or until I give in and we end up…! _Every_ _time_, that's how it goes! Why can't we just skip all that, and leave _now_?"

"I'm not leaving until this has been resolved!"

"Oh, look at Mr. Fix-it! There's _nothing to be resolved_, Malfoy!" she screamed, her head throbbing, just wanting to get away from him, and return home to where Harry was waiting. "Get it through your thick head!"

"But there _is_!" He grabbed her arms, rooting her to the spot. "An unbearable tension has built here, and I need to be rid of it!"

"Why can't you be like me and just pretend it doesn't exist?" Ginny sighed in frustration into his pale face.

He gave a short, derisive laugh. "There you are, then," he accused rather shrilly, his eyebrows raised. "You have just admitted that there is a tension to ignore! You _cannot deny it_!"

"_Piss off, Malfoy_!" she shrieked. Passers-by were staring at them, for their deafening shouting match was still taking place in the middle of Diagon Alley. Grunting as he looked irritably around at the attention they were attracting, he dragged her by the sleeve. She did not ask where they were going, and though she wanted to struggle, her feet betrayed her, following him obediently. His hand was warm on her arm, even as it so violently dragged her to somewhere unknown, shaking as it did so. Her brain was on fire, confused by her sudden, raging desire for the man thundering ahead of her. She had caved to his control. She was furious with herself, but her curiosity about Malfoy and her needy urges were making her weak to his tugs.

Ginny could not remember leaving Diagon Alley—too distracted by the unprecedented lure of being pulled into the unknown by a raging Malfoy—but she suddenly did not recognize the shops around her. She was in Knockturn Alley.

She was in a dark alleyway, Malfoy's slick, white-blonde hair gleaming in the moonlight that was their only light source. She was suddenly scared.

As it was, she was much more than scared: she was backed against one of the brick walls of the alley, and she was terrified.

The terror was inviting, no matter how much she didn't want to admit it. She could still feel Malfoy's hand on her arm, and his other palm was suddenly at her jaw. He was roughly forcing her head upwards, and she was suddenly kissing him again.

The world did not exist. There was nothing. There was Malfoy, and there was his tongue on hers, his hands in her hair and on her face, but there was nothing else. She poured all of her anguish—all her hatred and fury and grief—into this terrible, sickening action: kissing Malfoy. She was not thinking. She had no thoughts as she lifted a leg to hook around his knees and pull him closer. His body was hard and strong, and she felt small, insignificant, and fragile as she stood crushed between a brick wall and a man so violent in his solidity that he could have easily flattened her with a single motion. Never had she felt so delightfully out of control, nor so intoxicatingly weak. It felt wonderful. His tongue was thick in her mouth, and his breath was hot. Mind-numbing fear overtook her as his hands slid to her waist, holding her firm in place against the brick wall, and she loved it, forgetting what he was and what he had done in the past.

He was pushing her up, lifting her from the ground, pinning her upright with his hips as her feet dangled awkwardly. She let them wrap about his waist, and lock behind him. He pulled his mouth away from hers and bit her bottom lip as he growled a silky "I hate you" in her ear. She shivered.

"You infuriate me," she snapped, her expression stubbornly loyal to the side of her that was truly irritated, though the other side of her was currently gone—melted into his strong, controlling hands.

Malfoy kissed her again, his lips crashing over hers aggressively. His tongue was teasing her, dancing over her lips and jaw as he moved steadily to her neck. "God, you're disgusting," he purred into her throat as she groaned with excitement. His teeth brutally scraped her collarbone as his fingers tugged at the neck of her shirt.

"What," she breathed unevenly, "are you doing, M—Malfoy?"

He slid his hands beneath her shirt, and she shuddered at his cold touch that had her so powerless and clammy with desire. "Malfoy," she sighed again, "what are you doing?"

He grunted in response, his rough palms sliding deliciously up her skin and to her breasts. She was being violated—touched privately by the man she so hated, but she could not bring herself to make him stop. She found herself loving it—loving his broad, skilled hands in the most terrible places of her body. Her shorts were down in an instant, and she was panting. "Malfoy," she squealed against his hair as he so greedily licked her neck. "This… is so wrong…"

Malfoy's answer was a smug laugh. "I don't care," he purred hungrily.

"Why," she sighed, "does it have to be me?"

"You're convenient," he snarled. Pain of his words turned into ecstasy as his finger found her most sensitive areas. He worked her into a sweat, his fingers twisting pleasurably between her legs.

She groaned, feeling a sting as his nails impaled the inside of her thigh. The groan increased in volume and intensity as he stabbed further into her flesh, and blood began to trickle hotly down her skin. The pain felt so unusually good. She had never been one to enjoy pain—never—but as he retracted his nails, she realized how wonderful it felt, like he was healing some old wound by puncturing a new one to let her sorrow pour out. His hand was streaked with blood, and he pulled away from her lips once more to bring his red fingers between their faces. She stared at it: her own blood on his hand gave her chills. To her horror, he licked the blood from his fingers with incredible lust upon his face. "Oh, you're sick," she gasped, trying to push him away.

"No sicker than you," he sneered, and she heard a zipper being undone. He held her still. She fought, but feebly, as arousal held her in place. "Oh," he groaned, "I do rather enjoy it when you struggle."

"Sadistic bastard," she moaned into his neck as he positioned himself.

"That I am," he sighed, and something beautiful filled her heart as she heard the slight self-hatred in his voice. She heard it, and kept it in the back of her head as he pressed forward.

The image of his mocking face swam to her head, even with her eyes clenched shut, and his godly handsome features ignited further pleasure within her. He was at her entrance; her heart was pounding madly. There was no time for doubt.

He was inside of her in an instant, full and huge and painful. She sobbed through her moans, and he muttered a soft and startling "Forgive me" against her soft hair as he thrust into her with a gasp of pleasure. Their screams mingled in the hot air around them, a cacophony of hate, and shameful delight.

Malfoy's eyes were a dark grey thunderstorm of predatory lust as he shoved himself into Ginny, forcing her to slam against the painfully solid wall again and again with every movement. Her screams were both of pain and pleasure: she did not mind the wall's scraping of her shoulder blades, for the pain only added to the utter bliss that she was experiencing with him inside her needy body. He was warm and pulsing around her, his grunts igniting sparks of ecstasy within her like nothing she'd ever known. It was the danger of the meeting—the forbidden nature of their hazardous union—that was egging her on, exciting her further, and making her cry out against his shoulder.

When she collapsed, weak and shaking into his arms, he helped her with surprising tenderness to the ground. She could still feel blood oozing warmly down her thigh, and she was panting in time with him.

"Why… did you do that?" Ginny breathed weakly. Passion had possessed her, but now it was slipping away as she limped away from him.

He gave a breathless laugh, zipping his pants up again while she yanked her shorts back up her legs and fastened them to her once again. "To get rid of you," he gasped: "To get you out of my head for good."

"Did it work?" she asked. Her voice was shaking as her heart broke slightly, though she quickly pushed those feelings aside. This, however, accomplished nothing but clearing out more space for all her shame and guilt to come rushing back like a fatal, airborne disease. She felt like she was choking on it all. She'd just let Malfoy use her—take advantage of her passionately willing body—and she was getting married to Harry. She had let Malfoy take her and ravage her for his convenience, while still she loved _Harry_. She felt sick—dirty, and unworthy of Harry's overwhelmingly pure love for her.

"Hopefully," Malfoy said coldly, straightening his rumpled clothing. After deeming his appearance passable again, he stuck out an arrogant hand for Ginny to shake. "This has certainly been…" There was a pause as he raised his eyebrows. "…enjoyable," he sneered.

She stared at his hand in disbelief. "What was this… a business transaction?" she snarled, her lip curled in disgust. Her brow was furrowed as she glared angrily at him, blaming him again, just like the last time.

"Not quite," he laughed, lowering his hand as it remained unshaken. His eyes were twinkling with amusement, and she found herself almost smiling as she looked at him.

She shook her head quickly to rid herself of the oncoming smile, and snarled, "I've never hated anyone so much, Malfoy."

He gave her a haughty smirk. "Filthy blood-traitor," he hissed.

They glared at each other, both of them clearly lacking for what to say to the other. An awkward tingling sensation built in her sensitive areas, missing the feel of him on her. She tried hard to ignore it, but her chest was heaving again with deep, lusty breaths. She calmed herself by thinking of Harry—she even preferred her shame and self-disgust to feelings of desire for Malfoy.

"You've got a fiancée, Malfoy," she told him lamely.

"So do you," he sneered. "I, however, don't care."

"You're sick," she spat for the second time that night, "and sadistic."

He laughed. "I didn't see you complaining too seriously." His eyes trailed to her thighs, where streaks of blood still stained her pale skin. He watched her swear, wave her wand, and saw the blood disappear with his face oddly blank. She looked up from her newly healed wounds of passion, and back at Malfoy. He stared at her. She stared back. Their expressions were both unchanging and defiant, until he sighed, and looked away. His gaze lingered on the ground around her feet, and he whispered, "I'm sorry."

"What?" she asked him in shock. "You're… _sorry_?" Confusion overpowered everything she knew, and her head throbbed again in agony.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you," he said, nodding to her legs.

She let out a breath. "Oh," she grunted angrily. "_That's_ all you're sorry about."

"What else should I be sorry about?" he asked, glancing back up at her with his trademark sneer back to mar his handsome face.

She cocked her head to the side, sarcastically contemplative. "Hmm, let's think," she said in a mocking voice. "Maybe the fact that you just fucked me in the dark in the middle of Knockturn Alley without so much as a proper explanation, and now I'm going back home to Harry where I'll be forced to lie, when I'm just _not like you_, and I can't just _lie_ to him like that! It'll kill me! I _love_ him!"

He laughed. "Well, lucky him, then," he sneered, his voice cold. "My fiancée could not care less about love being involved in a marriage."

"Yeah, Harry and I _are_ lucky, but you're just pitiful," Ginny spat. "I feel sorry for you, I really do, Malfoy." She shook her head, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one leg. "That doesn't mean, though, that I'm just going to let myself become your plaything to use at your leisure because _your_ woman doesn't _love_ you, and I happen to be conveniently _around_."

Malfoy scoffed at her smugly. "I would never expect you to, Weasley. You're far too stubborn to allow something like that."

She gave an exasperated exhale. "So then why…?"

"Because I _can_, Weasley," he interrupted her, knowing her question before she voiced it. "Because you know as well as I that a galling and _nauseating_ tension has been formed between us, and that had to be released."

"So is it released now?" she asked irritably. "Can this finally stop so we can just go our separate ways?"

In the momentary silence, she stared firmly at Malfoy's face, and found herself again overcome with a feathery lightness as she took in how handsome he was in mysterious shadow. He sighed. "What do _you_ think, Weasley?" he inquired of her.

Rage boiled inside of her as she stared into his stupidly pale face that glowed so beautifully in darkness. "I don't know!" she shrieked. "This was all _your _stupid idea, this whole '_release_' thing!"

"Why did you give in, then? You could have struggled! You could have _stopped_ me!" he hissed threateningly at her.

"Because…" she stuttered, "because… because… oh, just _leave me alone, Malfoy_!"

He was chuckling cruelly when she spun on the spot and disapparated, still brooding over exactly the sort of tension she knew Malfoy was so wisely describing.

* * *

**A/N:** REVIEW, PEOPLE! IT AIN'T SO HARD! 


	8. Broken, Be My Escape

**A/N:** Yipes. I donno what to say this time. I wrote this chapter while watching the Marx Brothers' movies. Those boys are F-ING HILARIOUS!! They make me happy. I got my two of four wisdom teeth removed on Tuesday, and it's STILL as painful as hell, but the Marx Brothers have kept me sane. I do so love them. Harpo Marx is quite possibly the most wonderful person EVER. Oh god. I love him. Didja know he was my first ever celebrity crush? Yeah. I was in the sixth grade back then. Oh, it KILLED me to realize he was dead... and that he was gay... Wow, my taste in men is fantastic, isn't it?? But, oh, he's just so wonderful, and so ADORABLE, too, isn't he?! I love that man!! Aaah! If you're not a fan of the Marx Brothers, go watch one of their movies, come back, and join me in my currently overwhelming love for them. Oh, they're so brilliant! I love them! Wee!

Anyway...

Gaah. Malfoy's a sexy bitch, ain't he? Rawr. Whoa, baby.

* * *

Ginny stared. The ring dazzled in the bright sunlight streaming over her face and over her shaking palms. The hair that draped over her shoulders was gleaming a brilliant orange in the rays, and it blinded her as she looked down at her hands and the fiery tresses caught in her view. She blinked, and glanced back up at Harry, who was watching her intently. 

"Beautiful," she told him, quickly looking back down awkwardly.

"You like it?" Harry pressed.

Smiling down at the ring, she nodded. The gold was almost hypnotizing in its splendid shine, but to look at it made her ill. His palms cupped the backs of her hands as they clutched the little wedding band. She shivered, remembering Malfoy's hands on her skin… in the most private parts of her body that only Harry had ever visited before him. "So should we get them?" Harry was asking her—so luckily ignorant, and so undeserving of her despicable treatment of him.

"Yes," she breathed, still looking guiltily down, examining Harry's hands on hers. His fingers were soft and gentle, and his palms wide and loving. She gave a small squeak as he traveled a hand to her waist. It lingered there, his touch kind and loving. She shrank under his caress, giving a tiny embarrassed smile.

He looked concernedly at her. "Are you alright, Ginny?" he questioned. "You seem so distant."

She smiled at him, her eyes wandering to his nose, avoiding his direct gaze. "I'm fine," she lied as the memory of Draco Malfoy's body against her own made its way to the front of her mind, no matter how hard she tried not to let it. It had been so warm, and so strong, so controlling—more dominating than Harry had ever been. She sighed, remembering the ecstasy, the bliss of him inside of her…

Ginny closed her eyes and slinked from Harry's grip, her guilt overwhelming her insides which churning with shame and disgrace. She could feel his eyes on the back of her head, feeling completely unworthy of his emerald green stare. Trying to calm herself, she took a deep breath and handed him back the ring. She listened to him talk with the man at the register, purchasing the twin rings. She opened her eyes, looking at the window of the little shop as she listened to Harry counting his galleons. The blinding white sun forced her to squint. Gazing at the spot where she and Malfoy had met for the first time that summer, her heart began to race. She had never meant for any of this to happen. She hadn't wanted to meet him that day. If she hadn't, she never would have kissed him, which had unhappily led to the sordid interaction they had shared the night previous. She barely understood how any of this had happened. How could it have? She had never meant to follow him last night, but her curiosity took over her needy body and betrayed her, making her go along with his every movement. She felt filthy, having allowed him to hurt her that way, digging his nails selfishly into her thigh and tasting her blood as though she belonged to him. Though the marks were gone, she felt as though he'd scarred her invisibly, claiming her. To touch Harry felt like admitting her unhappy betrayal, and she was trying her hardest to sweep the event from her mind.

Her innards seemed on fire as Harry took her arm to walk her out. She closed her eyes a second time, pretending he wasn't touching her, pretending she was alone, the way she felt she deserved to be after what she'd done to him.

* * *

The dark of the night seemed to mock her. She sat at the window in the bedroom she and Harry shared in Grimmauld Place and stared out into the deep blue. She thought it might have been suffocating her as she looked into the depths of the darkness outside, and felt suddenly unable to breathe. She remembered how the darkness of the alleyway had swallowed her and Malfoy in shadow, but he had glowed so alluringly pale in the soft moonlight. 

"Ginny," Harry's voice called to her from the bed. "Why are you up?"

"I'm not," she replied without thinking.

He laughed. "Yes, you are. You're over by the window instead of in bed." She heard him yawning, but didn't look.

"Oh, right. Sorry," she said quietly.

"Why don't you come back to bed?"

Ginny looked back to Harry, who was stretching sleepily. The top half of his body protruded from the mussed covers. She rolled her gaze over his bare chest, and where there once would have been arousal, there was only guilt now. She bit her bottom lip. She had lain in bed with Harry tossing and turning long after he had fallen asleep, and now, having gotten up, she didn't think she could go back. Her self-hatred was consuming her insides, and it only got worse when she was near Harry. "I just can't sleep," she murmured, hoping that it would suffice for him.

"Can I help you with that?" he asked huskily, his tone suggestive. She glanced at his face, still avoiding his green eyes, and saw him smiling as though to seduce her. She had to look away. She couldn't stand it.

"Uh…" she stuttered anxiously. "No, Harry, I'm sorry." She meant it. She was sorrier than he could ever know, for she was too much of a coward to let him know what she had done. She swallowed nervously, and choked, "I love you." It tore her up inside. It felt like a lie, though she knew it wasn't. She knew she did love Harry, but to say it out loud after her night with Draco Malfoy made the words feel false.

Harry shrugged and rolled over, and Ginny's heart contracted with nauseating shame.

* * *

Thursday morning was painful. Ginny had not slept in two days, and her body was aching with tiredness. Her eyes were wrenched to stay open, and she needed rest. Harry was watching at her in concern. "You look terrible, Ginny," he said. "Have you been sleeping well?" 

She shook her head, staring at her plate while Harry ate beside her. "Not really," she sighed, "but I'm fine."

He reached over and touched her shoulder with his hand, and she tried hard not to slink from him. She gulped. She was almost glad to see him leave for Auror training. She fell upon the bed, taking in Harry's scent to advance her guilt, inhaling deeply as though she thrived on it, breathing guilt to stay alive. "I do love you, Harry," she told his pillow firmly. She closed her eyes. The darkness of her eyelids promoted nightmarish daydreams—hallucinations, perhaps? Draco Malfoy was sneaking his hands over her waist where she lay, cackling something dreadful into her ear as his hard body pressed her small form to hers and Harry's bed. "Stop," she moaned, snapping her eyes open again.

She was alone. The dreaded sneer of Draco Malfoy was not filling the room, and his arrogantly handsome platinum blonde head was no where to be seen. His strong arms were not around her, and his body was not taking control of her again. She began to cry as she remembered what he'd done—remembered all she'd let him do. With a shudder of regret, she could have sworn she still felt her blood dripping down her thigh, and as she drew in a gasp, she thought she tasted his breath. She shook her head. She was being stupid. It was nothing, she tried to convince herself: casual sex to get rid of the tension between them, wasn't it? Though the thought should have calmed her—the thought that it was over, and she'd never have to see him again—she was still in tears, still hating herself for what she'd done.

"This is ridiculous," Ginny groaned as she pushed herself back to a sitting position. "I have to just pull myself together and forget Draco Malfoy ever existed, right?" She swallowed. "I have to."

She went to work moping that day. Her lungs felt heavy with lack of sleep, and a yawn was forced from her as she stepped through the brightly colored door to her brother's shop. "Wow, Ginny, you look terrible," George informed her as she threw her magenta robes on over her head.

"Thank you," she replied grumpily. "So I've heard."

"So did you and Harry get the rings yesterday? I heard that's what you guys were doing on your days off."

"Yes, we did," she said solemnly.

"Well, you don't sound very happy about it," George said suspiciously, raising an eyebrow in questioning. "I'd think you'd be giddy as a chicken today, having finally bought wedding rings, and deciding on a date, and all that stuff…"

Ginny sighed exasperatedly, pushing passed him to her place at the register. "Just leave it alone, Fred, I'm not feeling so well," she snapped, not thinking.

The world seemed to fill with a dreadfully cold silence, making her feel suddenly small and empty. "I mean," she tried to correct herself quickly, "George… oh, George, I'm so sorry…"

Her life had been wonderful a mere week ago. She and Harry were getting married, Draco Malfoy wasn't back in her life after Hogwarts, and she was expert at her new talent of denying Fred's death. How had it become that it all fell apart? How was it that in a mere few days, she managed to mess up everything she was near?

Fuming inside at Malfoy—blaming him for everything—she felt tears well at her eye sockets as she watched George go deathly white. "George," she cooed, "I'm _so_ sorry! George!"

He didn't seem to hear her. George was wandering to the back of his store looking ill. Ginny filled with a terrible grief and a new kind of guilt that entirely wiped all thoughts of Malfoy from her mind. "George," she said in a broken sigh, trying to follow him. A dark man stepped in front of her, however, his dreadlocks wild in his face. "Lee, sorry, excuse me, I just…" She tried to move around him, but he blocked her.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he said calmly, "but I really think he should be left alone right now."

"But he's my brother!"

"And so was Fred!" Lee reminded her. Her bones all felt melted in sorrow. "But I'm his best friend. Just trust me, I've seen him get called Fred before, and he needs time all by himself when that happens, okay? Following him will only make him crazier."

She looked into Lee's honest face, and nodded sadly, turning back to the register. Lee hurried off to open the store, and Ginny was upset to find that in letting George alone, her mind was free to dwell again on the feel of Malfoy against her. Angry, she attempted to push those haunting memories away again for the sake of the customers already spilling inside.

Malfoy didn't leave Ginny's mind all day. Her heart never ceased to pound every time someone blonde entered through the door with a little jingle from the bell that hung above it. She stared until she could be sure it wasn't Malfoy, and found herself looking down rather disappointedly. Surprised by her own disappointment, she mentally punished herself, imagining all the terrible things that she deserved. She deserved to be left by Harry, she thought, though it hurt immensely to think it; she deserved to be disowned by her family, she thought, for she could hardly call herself a Weasley after what she'd done; she deserved to die, it occurred to her, but this was taking her shame too far, she realized with a frown. She was simply too sickened by her strange longing for Malfoy's presence. She had to get over it.

* * *

When her day was over, Ginny couldn't stop herself from scanning the street as she left Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The night was dark again, and she looked frantically about for a glowing blonde head of hair. She didn't understand her need for him. She was inexplicably desperate, her body furiously throbbing with desire for Draco Malfoy all over again, her blood pumping like an addict's during withdrawal. She hated herself for wanting him again—after all her guilt, after all her shame and overpowering disgrace, she still wanted him. She was aching for the way he'd made her feel so powerless. The feeling had made her crazy, and she loved it. While Harry made her feel like the only thing in the world, Malfoy had made her feel beneath him, and it was something so terrifyingly dangerous and treacherous that it was seductive. Ginny had realized, during her time to think while at work, that she unhealthily loved to hate what Malfoy so expertly made her feel. 

She wandered the cobbled street, and paused where she and Malfoy had stood two nights ago, holding her, fuming, before having dragged her off…

Ginny inhaled, closing her eyes, pretending she could feel him beside her, his hands yanking her towards him. She hated that she was wishing he was there… hated that she hoped he'd appear. She was panting.

It was then that she shivered, her skin prickling as though she were being watched. She opened her eyes hopefully.

She saw him: she saw the glowing white-blonde figure staring hungrily at her, and her heart stopped painfully with both confusion and glee.

With a quick, arrogant saunter, he was suddenly right in front of her, his body radiating a most tempting heat. They stood before each other silently, Ginny looking shameful, but hopeful, while Malfoy was entirely blank.

"You came again," she whispered to him at last.

Malfoy inclined his head to her silently, his expression unreadable, though his eyes were ablaze with a threateningly desirous silver.

"Did you think I'd be waiting for you?"

He responded with a slight twitch of his lips.

"I hate you," she told him. "But…I can't stop thinking about what we…" She licked her lips.

He sneered, and finally spoke, sending chills vibrating through her veins. "So you didn't tell Potter?"

Her ribs felt broken as her heart panged violently, thinking about Harry. She imagined his face—imagined the horror, the disgust, the hurt…

She wished Malfoy would stop looking at her so calmly, as though what they had done did not affect him. She wished he would stop being so calm, and just take her again to make all her worrying stop, and wipe her mind blank again. "No," she said flatly. "I couldn't." Shame was etched in every syllable she managed to choke out as she gazed upon his beautiful face.

Malfoy remained speechless. He merely looked at her, while the hush of the night air around them whispered tantalizingly to them with soft footfalls of passers-by, and the quiet chatter of night shoppers. The silver of his eyes seemed to be crawling beneath her skin, invading her blood, and permeating her entire being with every nervous drum of her anxious heart.

"So," she whispered, trying to break the blood-curdling quiet, "what about your fiancée, then?"

His mouth twisted again, but not as though to smile. It was an awkward addition to his dashing features. "She knows nothing," he said tonelessly.

"What are we doing?" Ginny sighed before she could stop herself. "Why are we doing this?"

Malfoy did not answer. She glanced up at him, marveling at how tall he was as he towered over her menacingly. He had to be at least Ron's height—maybe slightly shorter, but that was still remarkably tall beside Ginny. Minutes passed, and she still couldn't take her eyes off of his. Their gazes were locked, and their bodies were heaving as though the air around them had vanished, and they were suffocating in one another's eyes.

As the night grew steadily even darker, they still did not remove their stares from each other. The two stood very still, despite the deep breaths they were drawing, and both were thinking hard. Both were wondering over the questions Ginny had voiced. Ginny was contemplating the morality of being touched by Malfoy again, while he was thinking of the dishonor received from touching a Gryffindor 'blood-traitor.' Their thoughts kept them planted where they stood, and this irritated Malfoy.

"Weasley," he sighed, his voice husky and low, "this is ridiculous." Malfoy sneered arrogantly at her, his lustful eyes contradicting his expression of disgust. "I must say, I can't entirely understand my attraction to you. You are hardly appealing in any particular way, yet…" he laughed, not finishing his statement.

"Gee, what a way to romance a girl," Ginny smirked angrily, crossing her arms.

"Romance?" Malfoy scoffed. "Are you expecting a romance?"

"I don't know what to expect from you ever," she sighed, throwing up her hands in exasperation and letting them fall to her hips. "You're irritating and always having angry outbursts, and then you're sweet with little Teddy and being all nice for the first time, then you go out of your way to actually talk to me, then we kiss, then you're irritating again, then we have sex, then you're irritating again, then here we are again." She said it all in one breath, and she was then panting harder than she had been before simply from being close to him. "I just don't know what to make of you, Malfoy."

"You think _you're_ so easy to decipher?" he jeered. "You're kind and you're vicious, and there never seems to be any separation between the two."

"Oh, _please_," Ginny hissed. "God, I hate you."

"We'll _always_ hate each other, you stupid weasel," whispered Malfoy, taking a step closer to her, "but I found myself thinking yesterday about fate, like you were saying, and I wonder…" He leaned in to her, and her blood seemed to suddenly run hot. "I wonder if maybe you're right: Maybe you and I ran into each other so much because _fate_ is giving me a chance to enjoy something."

"What, you don't enjoy anything in the world?"

He smiled wickedly, and she shivered. "_Pain_," he hissed, "but not much else."

"You are so sick," she moaned gravely, shaking her head and crossing her arms once again.

"But what if," Malfoy said with a hopeful tone, his eyes full of desperation, "fate is giving me something to enjoy after all that I've done. What if… what if I'm being given _a chance at redemption_… a chance to feel _something_ other than guilt and irritation?"

She sighed. "But even _I_ irritate you, so you'd still be doomed in that way."

"I don't mind," he told her, his voice so quiet it was hardly even a whisper. She could feel his hot breath softly caressing her face. Closing her eyes, she inhaled, tasting the passion radiating from his mouth. He did not kiss her, but rather hovered teasingly above her.

"Malfoy," she breathed into his lips, parted in a sneer. He gave a breath of a laugh, and she felt it tickle her tongue, driving her mad.

"That's right, yes: You _do_ want this," he growled succulently, "whatever _this_ might be."

She could not answer; her words were gone, as was her reason. His lips fell upon hers with an overwhelming need, a groan escaping them both as their mouths came together. They were breathless with passionate desire, his strong, pale hands wrapping themselves around her waist to pull her close. He met resistance, but didn't bother to stop. The only sign he gave to recognize her slight opposition was to emit an amused chuckle from the back of his throat. Malfoy's hands traveled up her back, clutching her tightly to him as he shoved his tongue inside her mouth.

Ginny gave a moan of delight to taste his ferocious tongue, and fell fully into his grasp. "Malfoy," she panted again, her knees weak, and her hands desperate as they clung dependently to his strong upper arms.

"Yes," he sighed, pulling away from her mouth and lowering to her neck. His teeth gnashed at her throat hungrily, his tongue scraping over her flesh lightly enough so she shivered. She was moistening between her legs, her entire body shaking with desire, uncontrollable whimpers forcing their way from her lungs. Her palms slid from his arms to his shoulders, then clawed their way down to his muscular back. As her fingers gripped the fabric of his black cloak, he caught her arms in his controlling palms and pulled her hands from him.

Pressing her body still harder into his own, he leaned to her ear and whispered seductively, "Not here." She nodded willingly, forgetting Harry—forgetting her family—and thinking only of Malfoy's powerful arms around her.

Malfoy grasped Ginny firmly by her wrists, and disapparated, dragging her with him into the suffocating unknown.

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews encourage me to keep going! If you don't review, I might not continue! Oh no! 


	9. Mornings Eleven, What If You

**A/N:** And so the affair REALLY begins.

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

-honks horn and gives a silent scream of laughter, pointing mockingly at readers- ... I'm Harpo Marx!! Get it?! -.- Oh, whatever. Just read.

Love to you all!! Enjoy!!!!

* * *

"Where are we?" Ginny questioned breathily, taking in her surroundings. 

"Shush," Malfoy hushed her. "If you're heard, and my father comes… trust me, he would not hesitate to curse you."

Her eyes widened as she drank in the dark, ominous manor that cast a hazy shade over their figures. The moon could not be seen, and the breathtakingly manicured garden in which they stood was a crowd of black shadow, the silhouettes of bushes and trees appearing to glower at her, as though they knew she did not belong here. "We're at your manor?" she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper.

Malfoy shushed her again, covering his mouth with her hand. One of his fingers slid into her open mouth, teasing her tongue, and she groaned against it, her eyes rolling with excitement at the feel of his hand at her lips. "Shut up," he told her, removing his hand. Her breathing was shallow, but she held her tongue.

The inside of the manor looked like a palace, or a museum. She wanted to look at everything—every statue, every ancient portrait, and every detailed tapestry, but she was being shoved through the house by Malfoy's rough hands, pushing her along so she could not stop to take anything in. She was being manhandled up a beautifully elaborate staircase, and then pushed up another, and yet another until her terror at being inside this house had built so high she felt it might cause her to explode. She was thrust through an ornate door bedecked with a green and silver banner. The hands that had been leading her let go, and the door slammed behind her. She turned. Malfoy was panting, glaring at her, his expression wild with lust, and his wand drawn. He cast a silencing charm upon the room, and then let his wand fall upon a side table that stood by the entrance to the room.

She glanced around her. There was a great four-poster bed decked out in emerald green silk. It reminded her of Harry's eyes, and she couldn't look at it without thinking of him.

Glancing back at Malfoy, her chest heaved, feeling her whole body respond shamelessly to his hypnotically feral glare. He looked so mad: untamed and unrestrained. It frightened her, but when she whimpered it was not out of fear, but out of excitement and need. He removed his cloak and shirt as he advanced toward her like a beast closing in on its prey. She backed away from him, her heart throbbing viciously against her chest as she bubbled with desire. Her eyes scanned his body, which might have been sculpted from perfection. She wanted to run her hands over his stiff chest, caress his stomach, and tear away what clothes remained on his hard, chiseled body. Ginny let out an unwilling moan as she drank in the sight of him, imagining what pleasure she would feel from touching that soft, pale flesh.

The backs of Ginny's knees collided with the edge of Malfoy's bed, and her panting grew heavier, knowing what was soon to take place, and feeling crazed with anticipation.

In seconds, Malfoy was above her, his naked chest pulsing against her. She felt too clothed, and began clawing at the fabric restraining her from him. He assisted, tearing her skirt as he removed it. They moved wildly, a lustful fire pushing her nudity at him as she slid his pants away. He pushed her backwards, and she fell onto the mattress behind her. The green silk sheets were blissfully soft to her naked back, cold to her heated skin, and agony to her guilty conscience as she pictured Harry's dazzling eyes. Malfoy fell upon her greedily, his tongue traveling thirstily over her breasts as though he had to consume them to survive. She was groaning—loudly—but she could not inhale, and ran out of breath quickly. His fingers were inside of her, his mouth still lapping at her tender flesh. She could not breathe, and she was writhing, sweat already dripping from every inch of her body as he worked her into paradise. He was laughing against her neck, and let out a groan through his cruel chuckle as his mouth landed upon hers. Their tongues danced together in delightful passion, and her stomach clenched with pleasure as he pressed her tightly to the bed with his own hard body.

Ginny was smiling when he pulled his mouth away. She couldn't help it. She loved how he dominated her as he removed his hand from between her legs and slid his palms up her arms, holding them firmly above her head by the wrists. She shivered when he whispered into her hair, "I'll try not to hurt you."

She groaned, tilting her head up, her needy lips snatching for his, but he did not kiss her again, his face still buried in her fiery hair that gleamed in the pale light of the lamp by the bed. "Do you want to?"

Malfoy growled, and she shuddered violently. "Always," was his low, snarling reply. She moaned, lifting her legs up to wrap around his waist. Ginny could feel him against her, and feel his sweating form sliding along her own as he pressed greedily at her opening.

"Yes," she panted. "Please, Malfoy."

He seemed to be struggling with himself as though he wanted nothing more than to hurt her, but was trying desperately not to. She hated his restraint: it felt like he was teasing her on purpose, holding back on what he could give her, and she didn't want him to. She wanted him—all of him. "_Hurt me_, _Malfoy_," she cried in a strangled hiss.

"Oh, thank God," he grunted against her scalp, and with a strained groan, he dug his fingernails into her palms.

Ginny screamed, feeling blood being drawn. She felt it dripping along the lines on her palms, and it terrified her. Malfoy was strong, and she loved the terror he could produce within her. He rammed into her, and her screams became broken with gasps of delighted pleasure. He was moaning, his lips dragging themselves along her cheek now, and across her jaw. He linked his fingers with hers, crushing them. She heard her knuckles crack, and felt his wide, strong palms slide in her warm blood. The feeling of her blood on his hands was clearly fueling his excitement, and he was moaning relentlessly against her neck as he slid his hands down her wrists and over her shoulders. Trails of blood followed his fingers' paths, and she squealed with pure excitement at the feeling. Finally released, she flung her bloody hands to his back, and clutched him tightly to her. "Malfoy," she moaned again.

"Say my name again," he sighed as he thrust violently into her. She was thrashing wildly beneath Malfoy's body.

"_Malfoy_," she repeated with a leap of her heart as he slammed himself at her.

"No," he hissed, pausing in his movements.

She grunted. "Unh, Malfoy, please," she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks as the pain in her hands gave a horrible twinge of protest as she pressed her hands to his muscular shoulder blades.

"No," he growled again. "Say my name… my _name_!" His entire body was quaking, tremulous around hers as he struggled not to please her until she did as he commanded.

Ginny was squirming with need. "What—?" she mumbled against the nape of his neck. She realized what he meant in a pleasurable moment of understanding as she shuddered and squeaked below him. "Oh… _Draco_!" she cried, and he then pummeled her with his body, pounding her brutally into the bed. His hips were bruising hers, and with a scream of uncultivated passion, he devoured her mouth ravenously like a hungry wolf. His eyes were ablaze with an unquenchable thirst for her as he took her, claiming her violently with his body as she shrieked, and her ecstasy built. "Draco," she screamed repetitively, a chant of passion and heavenly pleasure. He moaned as his name was yelped continuously into the air, feeling the intimacy of the sound engulf him, and at that, he released in her body. He slammed into her for the last time, groaning brazenly in her ear. The delicious sound consumed her, and she was suddenly overcome. She felt herself reach a pleasure so great that it was unreal, so high that she felt godlike, and then, she smashed back down to earth as it all stopped. She lay beneath his collapsed body, weak and shivering in the sudden calm. She wanted never to move again. She had never felt more delightfully comfortable in such a weak state.

"Draco," she breathed again, tasting the sound on her tongue. It felt strange.

"Thank you," he sighed, not moving from atop her. He was crushing her on the bed, but she did not mind. She lay still, and he, too, did not move, except to lift his head from his hair and look directly into her eyes. They were the most unusually cloudy grey, and made her shiver.

She exhaled into his open mouth that hovered above hers. "'Thank you' for what?"

He closed his mouth and swallowed. His blonde hair was plastered to his sweaty face, and he glanced away from her as though ashamed.

"Draco," she repeated. "'Thank you' for what?"

Malfoy looked at her kindly, what might have been a tender smile playing over his stern mouth for the first time in her memory. He sighed. "…for making me feel something other than guilt."

She was silent, not knowing what to say. She was shocked, but oddly relaxed when she felt suddenly his hand gently stroking her hair. There was still blood on his fingers, but she did not care. All she noticed was how oddly gentle they were as they ran themselves through her long, soft mane. It calmed her, and confused her.

He sighed as he stroked her. She closed her eyes, feeling his hands touching her tenderly, in an almost loving fashion…one that warmed her heart, making her feel tranquil and serene, like the beautiful, calm ending to a violent storm. "Green compliments you," he whispered, leaning into her and inhaling the scent of her.

"What?" she asked incredulously.

She opened her eyes again, and stared into his. For a moment, she might have sworn that they were green, and that upon his sweaty forehead shone a thin, white scar. Was his hair really black? She blinked furiously, giving a tiny shuddering gasp of horror. "_Green_?" she cried. "Why would you say something like that?"

"I am a Slytherin, remember?" he sneered, his arms tensing around her head, holding her down as she began to fidget anxiously as though to escape his clinging grasp.

"I'm trying not to," Ginny informed him flatly, her hands now beginning to ache where he had pierced them.

"Why is that, Weasley?" He licked smears of her blood from her neck. "Do you wish I was more like you? Are you trying to pretend I am so that you'll feel better about this strange relationship?"

"Is that what this is?" she whispered calmly to him. "A relationship? I doubt it."

"What is it, then?" he hummed with a smile.

"I don't know." Ginny looked away from him, breathing deeply. "_Green_," she spat angrily, glaring at Draco's sheets. She felt him staring at her, and looked back up. "So, what is it about your name?" she asked, and her voice was small, sweet, and earnest.

His grey eyes danced, sparkling with watery silver, like metal made liquid.

"Tell me, Draco," she pressed, making a point to use his name again.

He collapsed into her hair again, his breaths deep. She stroked the back of his head with painfully stinging hands, not bothering about the blood that stained the white-blonde hair. He sighed, ruffling the red tangles that hung about her head. "I wanted to feel…" he choked. His voice was cracking. "Intimacy," he finished quietly.

"Hasn't anyone called you Draco before?" she whispered, staring avidly at his ceiling. It was bare, and grey like his eyes. Staring up at it and feeling his heavy body so close to hers, felt like she was intruding on something indecent… something she was not supposed to see.

His head shifted against hers as he breathed. The quiet of the night seemed to creep through her veins like a drug, pulsing in time with her heart. His bare chest beat sweet rhythms upon hers, his heart finding hers like the night… quiet and honest. "My mother and father did, because they are my parents." he said nonchalantly. "Pansy Parkinson did, attempting to shallowly seduce me." He gave a hollow laugh. "Crabbe and Goyle did, but only to mock me when they'd lost respect for me and my family." Draco's lonely sigh shook her very bones, making her hold him more tightly to her.

Draco… the name did indeed feel strangely intimate to use in reference to him. He had always been 'Malfoy,' and she had never thought much of it.

She shook her head softly. Trying to lighten the mood, she gave a small breathy laugh: "So, what…? Is my use of your name like some kind of aphrodisiac for you?"

He chuckled. "Something like that." He began planting small kisses on her ear and neck, forcing a low moan from her. There was a strange openness about the moment, as though in the tranquility of the night, his snide remarks were gone, and there was only Draco—clean cut, straightforward, and genuine.

"And…" She began, unable to help herself, "what about your fiancée? And doesn't she live here, too?"

Ginny felt him tense around her, and he stopped his light trail of kisses that had begun to move toward her jaw.

"She doesn't live here," he said stiffly, his voice oddly muffled as he dug his face into her skin. "She is nothing to me. She calls me by my name, but she does not love me: She loves my blood, and she loves my fortune."

"Isn't that what you love about _her_, too?"

"Yes," he agreed, "and I can't stand her." Draco sniffed, and Ginny couldn't help wondering if he was on the verge of tears. Her heart panged for him, and she pressed her still-bleeding palms to his back. It stung, but she paid no mind to the pain, simply listening to him. "Then you started questioning my relationship," he was saying, "and I began to wonder; you talked about fate, and I began to have hope." For a few moments, he was silent, and his breathing was deep. She did not speak, but simply waited.

"I hate you for it," he said calmly, but she could hear the smile in his tone.

Her lips twitched, glancing at the red-streaked blonde head. "Thanks," she tittered. "I hate you, too."

"Good," he whispered, then pulled up. His eyes were bloodshot, but the grey looked, for the first time, warm as he stared down at her. He kissed her slowly, his tongue soft, but greedy. She sighed against his tender lips, deepening the caress, sliding her blood-drenched hands along his pale skin, and twisting them into his hair. When he broke away, her hands were still entwined gently in the mess on his head. "So you really believe in love?" he inquired, looking skeptical.

"Of course," she said immediately. "Don't you?"

He snorted. "No."

Ginny dropped her hands from his head. "Well, it is real," she told him. "I love Harry, after all."

"Oh, let's not talk about Potter now, Weasley…"

"Yeah, well, I'm going to _be_ a Potter in a few weeks!"

His brow dropped broodingly, making him look suddenly powerfully dark. "So what will I call you when that happens?"

She raised her eyebrows. "'Ginny' will be fine, thank you," she snarled.

"Fine, then," he spat. "_Ginny_."

"Thank you, Draco," she said, looking gently into his raging eyes again. At the use of his first name, they seemed to soften, and glow.

He grinned. "Oh, say it again," he said in a low growl, sliding his hands down her sides, over her hips, and between her legs.

Ginny giggled with pleasure. "Draco," she teased in a suggestive whisper. "Draco… Draco… _Draco_…"

And he was kissing her again.

* * *

When the blood had been cleared away, and her bruises mended, she dressed. She had forgotten about time, and forgotten about reality. 

Draco walked her to the garden, making sure that she went protected—unseen and unheard by his father. "Here you can disapparate," he informed her. "Our manor has anti-apparating charms on it, so no one can get in or out that way."

Ginny nodded. "Are you afraid of your father?" she asked hastily, not bothering with gentle approaches or tact. She knew he would not answer now either way—their content moment of open honesty had vanished. She could not see his expression properly, for it was pitch black out, now, and she could barely see her hand before her eyes.

"You should go," he whispered, and she did not ignore the fact that he left her question unanswered. It was certainly an improvement to his leaping to Lucius Malfoy's defense and yelling at her. She accepted this as a step forward in his path to forgiveness.

"Yeah," she agreed, looking down at her feet, which were invisible in the overpowering darkness. She did not go, and he did not tell her to again. They merely stood there in silence, listening to crickets chirp around them. It was calming.

Draco suddenly cleared his throat. "This was…" he started, and then he paused, unsure of how to finish his statement.

"Enjoyable," she ended it for him. She saw the outline of his broad shoulders shrug, though the blackness of the atmosphere swallowed his face from her vision.

"Is that it?" he asked, sounding awkward, though his sneer was evident in his tone.

"What?" she questioned.

"I mean," he clarified, "was that…? Well…" He was quiet for a moment, struggling for words. She waited patiently, and finally he said calmly, "Is this going to continue?"

Ginny sighed. "What's 'this,' though?" she asked.

"I don't know," he sighed. "It is whatever you want it to be, I suppose, W—Ginny." She noted the stutter of her name, but greeted his swift correction of it with a grateful smile that he could not see.

She bit her lip, terrified. Her brain was screaming with confusion, flashing little neon signs warning her against a continued relationship with a Malfoy. She thought of Harry, the love she felt for him swelling in her heart so she felt mad with uncertainty. She wanted Draco—she couldn't deny it. She wanted him with an unusual animal desire that she could not understand, or explain. Still, she was in love with Harry.

Love should come first, shouldn't it? Wasn't that what she was trying to teach Draco, after all?

Ginny swallowed. "I'm getting married on August 14th," she stated flatly. He shifted slightly. "I love Harry. I'll always love him." The back of her throat felt suddenly clogged with tears. "But I do want you, Draco," she admitted shamefully in a hoarse whisper, reaching her hands out to him. Her fingertips touched his chest, and she felt his own hands slip around hers, warming them. He clutched her fists to him, and she felt his breath on her lightly curled fingers, as though he had dropped his chin to his chest and exhaled deeply.

"I've grown strangely accustomed to your presence, Ginny," he mumbled. "I take pleasure in your reassuring company."

"That's new," she laughed, not finding anything humorous about it. In fact, she felt strangely touched by his uncommonly sentimental words. "But I know what you mean," she agreed, "and it's making me crazy."

She felt his heart beneath her hands at his chest. It was beating fast. His slight movement suggested he was nodding. "It certainly is maddening," he whispered softly. She didn't want to leave him. She liked the feel of his heartbeat, and his dominating presence, and she didn't want to go. It was with this realization that she decided impulsively, not thinking about the consequences, or even about Harry…

"Okay," she breathed. "Let's continue… this." Her mind was on fire, but she was set. "I can't imagine not seeing you again," she confessed, her heart twisting with guilt. He let go of her hands, and she felt them meet her cheeks. His palms were warm, and she closed her eyes, inhaling their scent, memorizing the feel of them there.

"Tomorrow night, Knockturn Alley," he whispered, and his voice was closer than she'd thought. He was right in front of her, his face hardly an inch from hers. She let her eyelids flicker open again, and she saw the glint in his eyes right before her. His smirk was just barely visible, and she leaned up to it, catching him in a long, slow kiss.

She shivered. "Tomorrow," she repeated breathlessly, and disapparated from his grasp.

* * *

**A/N:** Review, people! Let's gooo!! Hit that button and tell me what's on your mind! 


	10. Beautiful Disaster, Addicted

**A/N:** Gah. So sorry. I realize smut has been taking over a chance for plot, but that's just how a relationship between Ginny and Draco works out! It involves a whole lotta angst, and a WHOLE lotta sex. Sorry, but it's true, and you know it.

OH, and by the way, this story is now being ALSO dedicated to my friend Maria who is in Poland, just because I really REALLY miss her, and because she's the one who got my into Draco/Ginny in the first place, and she deserves it. Love to her! And to all of you who are still reading this damned story!

Enjoy!!

* * *

Ginny returned to Grimmauld Place breathless and shaking, her flesh hot. She was met by a frighteningly worried glare the moment she stepped inside, and she gulped at the sight of Harry's anxious green eyes. 

"Ginny," he hissed, his voice low so as not to wake Mrs. Black's portrait, "where on Earth have you been? You got off work three hours ago! What have you been doing?"

"You sound like my mother," she mumbled, slipping passed him and up the stairs. He followed her. She flung herself to the bed, and collapsed there in exhaustion.

Harry sat beside her. "I don't care if I do," he said quietly. Her heart was beating fast. "After everything we've been through… I just get worried. I'm still afraid something awful might happen if you're out there all by yourself. There are still Death Eaters at large, you know."

"I know, Harry," she sighed. Her limbs felt heavy, and the softness of her mattress felt like it was sucking her in and possessing her. She yawned.

She watched Harry shake his head as though she just didn't understand. "Look," he pressed, "I just… my whole life, I've been focused on killing Voldemort and his followers, and I'm still adjusting to just having a normal life. Some part of me feels like the battle's still going on, like it never ended. I still worry for yours and Ron's and Hermione's safety, so to come home this late and not tell me where you are is really scary for me. Call me paranoid, but I'm just worried about you. Plus, recently, you've been so… distant. Don't deny it."

Ginny listened to Harry talk, trying to ignore the violent thudding of her heartbeat in her ears. "I know, Harry," she told him, "I know. I know you worry, and I'm sorry."

"So, what's up, Ginny?" he cooed, leaning down to her and wrapping his arms over her tired, limp form. "What's wrong? What's been going on with you for the past few days?"

"Nothing, Harry." She rolled over, closing her eyes to calm her building headache. "I'm fine." What else could she tell him? She could not tell him about Draco. She could _never_ tell him. "It's… that time of the month," she lied. In truth, her last period had ended a week ago, but it was a good lie. "I'm sorry, though, Harry," she breathed honestly. She felt his warm arms around her, and smiled. He was so solid, so warm, and so reliable. His arms were soft and calming. She snuggled into the black hair that was tickling her face, and breathed in his scent. Shifting slightly, Ginny let Harry crawl fully onto the bed beside her.

Harry's hands stroked her face. It felt good—sweet, relaxing, and so right after all she'd done with Draco. Her heart felt full of warmth to be wrapped here in his loving embrace. "I love you, Ginny," he sighed against her. She cuddled her face into his chest.

"I love you, too, Harry," she said. Her voice cracked, but she meant it. She'd never loved anything the way she loved Harry. He was her stronghold—her light at the end of her dark and confused tunnel. He was hers, and she loved it. She grinned happily against him, slinking her arms around his back to hold him tightly. She embraced Harry lazily, breathing deeply, letting his soft breaths coax her into sleep.

And suddenly, Harry was gone: Draco was now the one holding her sweetly in bed. She kissed him. He pushed her onto her back, and bit her jaw roughly. She felt dizzy, like she was going to faint, and tried to escape him. Harry approached them, his smile forgiving and warm.

"Harry," she whispered, touching his face. Draco was gone. She kissed Harry, and he kissed her back. She was bleeding from her hands, and didn't know why.

He looked at her palms with concern. "Oh, Ginny, your hands," he said, and kissed them. Her blood remained upon his lips when he pulled back, and he looked suddenly horrified.

"Harry?" she asked, confused. "What's wrong, Harry?" He had let go of her, stepping away from her, looking disgusted.

"Him?" he hissed.

"No, Harry! No one! Just you!"

He spat her blood upon the floor, and Draco stepped out from behind him. Harry did not appear to see him, even as he walked directly in front of him, and stood beside Ginny. Draco brushed aside her hair, and licked her neck. "Me," he laughed at Harry, who fell to the ground, staring up at them.

"No, Harry!" Ginny called. "Harry, I swear." She began to cry. "I swear," she repeated. Everything went fuzzy. Where was she? "I swear," she mumbled again. "I swear, it's you."

"What's me, Ginny?" Harry whispered, his voice much closer than she thought.

Her eyes snapped open. She was still lying in Harry's caring arms, and white sunlight was streaming over their huddled bodies. She sighed heavily into Harry's chest. "Nothing, Harry. I was dreaming."

He chuckled lightly. "Was it good?"

"Yes," she lied. "It was very good." She leaned up and pressed her mouth to his, tasting Harry's essence there, pretending she wasn't remembering the false image of her blood upon his sweet lips. "I love you," she muttered softly.

* * *

Ginny left Weasley's Wizard Wheezes gladly that night. She was happy to escape the shop. She had never seen herself working there, and still didn't enjoy it. It was not something she wanted to be doing with her life. As it was Friday, she was happy to leave and know she had two days of freedom from the place. She worked there as a favor to George, and to earn a bit of money, but she wanted to do something real with her life. 

Her anxiety for the weekend was only half of the reason she wanted to get out of the store, however: the other half of her was anxious to be taken over once again by Draco Malfoy. All day she had been pulsing with that abnormal desire for him, and now that she was so close to another meeting, she was practically on fire with the need.

She wandered through the dark streets on legs that shook with anticipation. She stumbled up and down the winding roads, searching for some clue as to the direction of Knockturn Alley.

After about ten minutes, she found it. She wondered vaguely how Malfoy had found it so easily that night—but then, she supposed, he had been there many times before. The place was deserted. She glanced down the street that twisted out of view behind shops that were probably devoted to the dark arts…places she probably didn't want to go near.

Standing meekly at the narrow entrance to the dark street, she waited. "Malfoy," she whispered into the silent night. "Malfoy?"

No one answered, but she did not give up. She leaned herself against a wall, and called again: "Malfoy?" Ginny held her breath. Where was he? Her heart was thumping wildly, and she felt fidgety without him here to quench her great lust. She let out her deep breath of air, blowing some of her hair up and out of her sweaty face. "Draco?" she tried, and suddenly a pair of dominating hands had grabbed her firmly, and a greedy mouth was overwhelming her own.

"Oh, _Draco_," she sighed against his lips, and he smirked.

She slid her arms around his neck, and tried to deepen their passionate kiss, but he pulled away, chuckling. "Anxious, are we?"

"Yes," she admitted breathlessly, her entire body heaving with want.

"Not here… We can be seen here," he whispered tantalizingly into her ear, holding her close. Her groan of irritation went unheard, for he was already pulling her into compressing darkness again.

When she could breath freely again, she hissed, "Not your manor again!"

"Have you a better suggestion?"

"Yes," she snarled, looking frightened to find herself back in the Malfoys' garden. "Anywhere that's not a place I might get killed by your father."

Draco laughed coldly. "Fine then," he sighed, and clung to her again as he dragged her back into oblivion. She could still feel his hands on her arms, even as the suffocating air pressed them into a change of scenery. An instant later, they were clutching each other in front of the Hogs Head inn. "Is this better?"

"No," she said exasperatedly. "I know Aberforth!"

"Who?"

"The bartender here!"

"Oh, for crying out loud, Weasley!"

"Stop calling me that," she implored.

He sighed, and pulled out his wand. "_Ginny_," he corrected himself, and tapped her on the top of the head with the stick of wood in his hand. A chill ran down her spine as he did so, and she couldn't help but shiver. "There. I disillusioned you. Happy, now?"

"Oh, alright," she grumbled, crossing her unseen arms. Draco sneered as he stepped into the pub and asked for a room. Ginny followed him, but stood as far back from Aberforth as she could, frightened that he would for some reason be able to see her there with Draco.

Up in the room, Draco rapped her over the head again, and she felt the strange cold sensation rush through her again when he did. "Ashamed to be seen with me?" he growled against her cheek.

"Of course," she breathed, and their lips met again. She tore open his shirt, ignoring the clasps that held it to him, and slid it from his shoulders. As he ripped away her clothes, she ran her hands greedily over his bare shoulders and chest.

She was shocked, then, when he shoved her away from him. He pulled away his pants, and she tried to move back towards him, but he pushed her off again. "Draco?" she questioned, and was appalled by the hurt in her own voice.

"Lie down on the bed," he whispered, waving his wand to lock and silence the room, just like the night previous. Without even daring to disobey under that scalding glare, she did as he asked, and laid her naked body down flat against the mattress. She was biting her lip in trepidation as he stalked to her. She watched with terror as he waved his wand again…

Her arms were unwillingly above her head, and her legs were parted. Her pulse leapt to her throat, and she chomped down harder upon her bottom lip, so full of excitement and fear she felt that if she opened her mouth, her still-beating heart might fly out and engulf them both in her blood. She could not speak. She could not breathe. Ginny attempted to twist her arms out of their invisible bindings, but they would not budge. A small whimper forced its way from her, and tears flew to her eyes as she looked at Draco. He was staring at her, his body swelling with obvious lust. Something about the primal animal flitting through his grey eyes terrified her, and her whimper grew louder. His lips curled into a full grin as he watched her squirm. "I've told you I like to watch you struggle; haven't I?" he hissed.

She swallowed, trying to hold in her fear that was creeping to her tone as she said, "I've told you you're _sick_, right, Malfoy?"

His eyes narrowed, the grin immediately disappearing. "Several times now," he admitted. "And it's true."

Ginny was sweating already, and the place between her thighs was wettest of all. She hated him, and feared him tremendously, but wanted him so badly it ached. Her legs were twitching, pining for him to take and overcome her, but he was merely standing above her, his eyes scanning her nudity hungrily. "Please, Malfoy," she sighed, "I don't care what sick fantasies you have, just… please…"

"Don't call me that," he snarled, his voice low and ominous. His eyes were full of anger and pain.

"I'm sorry!" she whined. "I'm sorry, Draco!"

"No," he said thoughtfully. "You're not."

"What—? Yes! Yes, I am!"

"But you will be."

Her heart stopped. What was he planning to do to her? She knew he was sick, and took unfathomable pleasure in torture and pain. Why had she ever agreed to this terrible meeting? Her doubts flooded back, overwhelming her, and making her writhe madly beneath the invisible chains. "Okay, that's enough, Malfoy! Let me go! Let me up!"

"DON'T call me that!" he shouted, and his intimidating voice vibrated through her like a clap of thunder. She shivered, and her tears began to fall, but she did not say anything else. She hated herself for agreeing with him. She hated herself for giving in to the beauty in his shining eyes, and submitting herself to him, body and mind. She watched him crawl above her, looming over her shaking body as though proving he was superior to her. His eyes were so angry that she was surprised she hadn't screamed yet. He raised his hand threateningly, and she closed her eyes. For a moment, she thought he wouldn't do it—thought he hadn't the heart—but a second later, her cheek seared, and she let out a yelp.

"Malfoy, you—!" she cried, but the blow came again. "Stop!" she sobbed. "What is your issue?"

"What is my name?" he whispered sweetly as though to contrast the angry red print developing across her pale face.

She was panting. It felt like she had just run a thousand miles, and breath felt difficult to achieve. As her legs gave a lurch as though to disconnect themselves from their binds, she realized that she was soaked. She was submerged in shame as she found that her heart was drumming so madly not out of the self-disgust she'd convinced herself it was, but out of pure and possessing excitement.

"Draco," she surrendered on a painful exhale.

"Thank you," he groaned, and crushed her parted lips with his. She squealed at the blissful contact, but moments later, he left her mouth empty again, smirking maliciously at her.

His fingers trailed down her body, and hovered over her ginger curls teasingly. She was writhing, her entire body begging furiously for him to release her. Tiny squeaks were squeezing from her throat as she thrashed in desperation for freedom.

With a tantalizing, low chuckle, a finger penetrated her at last. She gave a strangled gasp, feeling every inch of the slender appendage within her. He slid it inside of her painstakingly slowly, torturing her as intensely as he could. She groaned, rolling her hips as frantically as possible in an attempt to extract every ounce of pleasure she could from the slow sensation. She wanted him to take her, and he was deliberately denying her of it. "Please," she sighed, "Draco."

An honestly anguished moan trembled from him as she said his name. He was staring her straight in the eyes, his storming silver ones quieting her brown ones into submission. His face was mad with power, for he was obviously relishing in the incredible effect his body and his hands were having on her. He bent his head, disconnecting their locked glance, and sniffed the nape of her neck like an animal. "I can smell your desire," he rumbled fiercely, "and I can smell your _fear_."

She shuddered, her body throbbing heatedly at his words that were both so menacing and so exhilarating at the same time. The predatory growl that pulsated from him at her throat made her pant, hard, and let out an indisposed grunt of longing. "Please," she hissed again, needing him badly now. She was on fire—she was in physical agony from his deprivation of her needs!

At her last begging word, he removed his finger, and pressed the entire length of his body against hers. She was dizzy with pleasure as she felt him nudging her entrance.

"_Please_!"

In that moment, he impaled her, bursting a scream that had been contained within her sweating form since he had first told her to get on the bed. She screamed and screamed as he thrust into her, stabbing her over and over again with his thickness. She was wild and feral as she convulsed around him, and he was primal, instinctual, and animalistic as he ravaged her body. With a roar, he dug his teeth into her shoulder, and did not cease to clench his jaw around her even when she was sobbing with pain through her screams of pleasure. His eyes were rolling in ecstasy, and hers were shut too tightly for reason. Vision escaped him as he climaxed inside of her, his hips so wildly brutal that they might have been rabid creatures moving of their own accord. She came around him, and they screamed together—falling into the exquisite abyss of each other.

She felt perfect: like a satisfied woman. Her body was sore and pulsing in protest to movement, as though she had been used viciously; and in a sense, she felt she had been, but she did not care. She enjoyed the experience. She enjoyed Draco using her, enjoyed the way she made someone so cold and evil become so passionately unrestrained… the way she knew she made him feel an undeserved intimacy. It made her feel needed, like a drug, and this gave her an odd sense of power and control that she had never felt before. She loved this new version of the feeling of being conquered and dominated, a feeling she'd felt only once before, and thought she'd never wanted to feel it again. "Tom," she breathed, remembering. He had taken her, first by drawing her soul from her, and then by taking over her body. She'd been powerless then, and she was powerless now, and the feelings were so torturously similar that it sickened her.

"Tom?" Draco growled. "Who on Earth is Tom?"

"Tom Riddle," she groaned, realizing what she'd said aloud.

He pushed himself up to instead kneel over her small frame, and now the free air hitting her sweat-drenched body chilled her. She shivered. He was glaring at her with eyes so cold they might have been ice. "The Dark Lord."

Tears swam to her eyes, and she nodded helplessly.

"Why did you say his name?" His voice sounded choked, as though he, too, were on the verge of crying. She could not think why.

"Because," she confessed, feeling exposed and inclined to honesty as she lay there, still bound. "Because the only time I've ever felt as…" She swallowed. "…As powerless as I do with you… was when I was possessed by him."

The look of horror on his face tore her up. She suddenly wished she were no longer tied there, and within a moment of thinking it, her hands were free. She curled herself up into a ball beneath him, cracking all her stiff bones, and caressing her sore wrists and ankles.

"You were…"

"I was eleven," she said, cutting him off, feeling it begin to pour out of her as though she had no control. "I was given a diary. I wrote in it all the time, and it wrote back to me. It was a friend I could carry with me, when I had no friends. I was the youngest of seven: the only girl, and the last to go to Hogwarts. I was so excited, but really scared. I was an awkward child, and I didn't have many friends. I had people I could talk to as acquaintances, but that year, I spent most of my time pouring over that stupid diary." She took a moment to breathe deeply, and close her eyes so she could avoid looking at that continually horrified expression. "It came to know me so well, that it eventually started to drive me crazy, planting false images and things into my head so that I'd give up, and it could posses me. I didn't know who Tom Riddle was. I didn't know what it was doing to me, but by the time I realized it, and tried to get rid of it, it was too late. I was practically addicted to the thing, and stole it back from Harry, who had found it after I'd disposed of it." Ginny stopped, and opened her eyes again. "You picked it up, once."

Draco's eyes widened. She nodded, continuing: "Yeah. It was Valentines Day, and Harry's bag ripped. You picked it up and taunted him, thinking it was his diary." Her insides clenched as she remembered. "That was how I knew it was in his possession, and I stole it back, then." Tears were straining her words, but she was leaking with this story now, and it was flowing from her against her own will. "It possessed me again, and it led me into the Chamber of Secrets. I was the one who had been attacking all those muggle-born students, yes." The tears were flooding down her cheeks heavily now, but she pressed on. "It was me. I did it. I couldn't help myself, but it was all me. I went into the Chamber, and I… I…" She began to cower, hugging herself to her. Draco's hand upon her shoulder egged her on. "I collapsed. The diary seemed to come alive, and Tom Riddle himself came out of it, laughing at me, teasing me, hurting me with the intimate knowledge I'd given him into my soul, and then, I blanked out. Harry told me later that I was inches from death when he stabbed the thing, and Riddle finally disappeared."

It was over. She could not explain why she felt the need to tell it all, but it had come so easily with him watching her like that, half horrified and sickened, and half concerned and sympathetic.

"And…" Draco began, but his voice was stifled with tears. He cleared his throat, and went on, "I remind you of that experience?"

She shook her head. "No," she said quickly, "you just… posses me like that." She smiled. "You make me feel powerless, and completely in your control. I like it."

With a sad twist of his lips, his eyes softened. "You like it, but you hated it then?"

"It's a different kind of control. This is the good kind."

"Well, that works out alright, then," he smirked, "because while you like to be controlled, I like to control you." He kissed her deeply, but when he pulled back a second later, he was no longer smirking. The frown that now played across his face made him seem distant and unreachable. She was intrigued, but she didn't need to ask him anything, for he answered her question before she could voice it. "So we've both felt the power of the Dark Lord," he sighed. "It pains me to think you've felt it too, when I can barely think back upon my short time in his power without experiencing a very deep sense of fury."

"He got to know me," Ginny said quietly. "I gave him the power from the beginning. You didn't ask for what you got."

"How would you know?" Draco spat.

She gulped. "Harry told me. He made you a Death Eater against your will."

"Well, that nasty little scar face," he scowled, wringing his hands, "lied to you. It was not forced upon me: I _chose it_." His voice was so low, and so full of danger, that she did not dare protest. "It is what makes my crimes so much more unforgivable: that I chose to become a Death Eater." He shut his eyes, and pressed his hands to his temples, shaking his head. He looked in deep distress, and she wanted so to reach out and caress him, but she didn't dare. "He threatened my mother's life, and mine as well, and he even threatened to leave my father rotting in Azkaban forever if I did not join him, but in the end, the choice—" His voice broke. "—was mine." He was shaking. She reached out a hand to touch him, then, but he suddenly twitched, and she recoiled. "I was terrified, but I acted proud, and as the time went on, I could not eat or sleep without regret running through my head. Pure, undaunted sleep has still not reached me in quite some time." It felt like a very intimate confession, and she didn't know what to make of it. Should she be touched that he was sharing these things with her, or should she be appalled that their relationship was developing a new emotional bond as they talked? In the silence, she ran a lazy finger over the scar that was his reminder—the skull and snake that were permanently etched into his muscular forearm. His body went tense for a moment at the touch, but relaxed quickly as though her tender fingers calmed him. He lay back down beside her, and they breathed together, her hand still stroking his grotesquely scarred arm.

"Who would be so cruel," he sighed gently, "as to slip you a diary possessed by the Dark Lord?"

She had so hoped he would not ask it—so hoped she would not have to say! But it felt wrong, shameful, and strangely dirty to keep it from him, like not confessing the name of a known rapist. It felt, suddenly, like something he needed to know. "Your father," wrenched its way from her protesting throat, and her stomach flipped over with sympathy as it did. She felt him go rigid beside her, and turned her head to look at him. He was staring avidly at the ceiling.

"My…?" His face was white as a sheet, and she felt concern boil in her veins. She wanted to say something to console the rage she knew was rising in him, but she could think of nothing. The truth remained that Draco's father had attempted her murder with a diary that would torture her to madness and posses her to kill muggle-born students first, and that wasn't something she was going to deny merely for the sake of redeeming the man in the eyes of his son. Draco deserved the truth.

After several minutes of speechlessness, Draco swallowed, and choked out, "I hate him."

Ginny had nothing to say to this. She simply continued to look at him, as though this would help in some way. Eventually, he continued:

"My father is the reason the Dark Lord made me a Death Eater. My father had failed him, and recruiting me was the Dark Lord's revenge on him." He looked utterly disgusted. "It's all his fault," he sighed, and she saw that his eyes were very red. She shifted to lie on her side and face him more easily, and slipped an arm over his chest, caressing him as he continued to stare so furiously to the ceiling. The fingers on her other hand still lightly traced his scar.

"Well then," Ginny said meekly, "we have something in common."

He turned at last to look at her. His eyes were bloodshot and sad, but still as cold as ever, his brow low and brooding.

"Lucius was the cause of both of our unfortunate run-ins with Voldemort."

He looked pained to hear the name spoken so freely from her lips, but she knew he was biting his tongue to keep from yelling at her for it. She took this as a sign of almost-respect, and replied with a small, gracious smile.

She opened her mouth, feeling words on her tongue she never thought she'd ever want to say. She closed it again, stopping herself, but it hurt, as though to hold it in was a crime. "Y'know," she whispered hurriedly, before she lost the heart to say it, "you're really not so bad, Draco."

His face flushed as a whole-hearted laugh boomed from him. It was one so genuine, she was surprised. She blushed as he turned to her, the laughter dancing in his eyes. "Well, you obviously don't know me very well, Ginny."

"Maybe not," she sighed with a shrug, "but I still don't think you're quite as bad as you think you are."

He did not answer her, but merely stared blankly at her hair. One of his hands reached up to stroke it where it lay in a messy orange puddle about her head. She closed her eyes, basking in the delicately pleasant sensation. Her entire body felt worn and battered, and she needed desperately to sleep. Her eyes began to droop.

"No," he cooed, and she stirred again. "You can't sleep yet," he reminded her warningly. "We're still in the Hogs Head."

"Oh… right…" She shook her head.

"So where does Potter think you are?" She heard the resentment in his voice, but did not question it.

Ginny sighed. "He thinks I'm spending a few hours with Luna."

"Who's Luna?"

"A friend of mine from Hogwarts," she informed him.

"Another Gryffindor brat, I suppose?"

"No, actually." She yanked herself from him at that, and her skin felt suddenly frozen where his arms had been wrapped around her a moment ago. She began to dress. "She was a Ravenclaw." Her voice was stiff.

Draco sat up, and threw his pants on, too, watching her. "You're so sensitive, Ginny. You take things far too personally."

"Oh, so I'm just supposed to put up with your constant insults?"

"They're not directed at you—"

"No, just at my house that I happen to take pride in."

He snorted. "Oh, come on. You're allowed to hate me for my Slytherin pride, but I'm not allowed to hate you for your Gryffindor pride?"

"I don't hate you for being a Slytherin!" she cried, exasperated. "I hate you for being a pathetic, arrogant, self-absorbed prat!"

Draco's warm, wide palm closed over her thin wrist as she made to leave. She looked back at him, her eyes warning him to take caution with her. Her hair a mess, she appeared to be a personified angry flame. He smiled at the sight of her, despite her furious glare, and this puzzled her. What on Earth did he have to be smiling about?

He chuckled, and wrenched her toward him, forcing her body flush against his. His smirk provoked arousal within her as he leaned toward her, and whispered into her ear: "What else do you hate about me?" It was almost romantic, resembling the way lovers list their favorite qualities in each other.

She groaned as his hand slid down her back. "You think you're the king of the world." She licked her lips. "You like to push people around. You like to torment anyone who bugs you, and you like to see people suffer. You always have to have your way, because you're a spoiled little bastard." His hand was sliding beneath her skirt and touching her mercilessly over her thin kickers. "You…" she panted, trying hard to stay focused. "You… suck up to those in power, because that's your weakness: You love power. You'd give anything for power and for control. You can't keep your temper in check, you're violent, and you're thoughtless. You're…" she was gasping every word, now, as his fingers pushed aside the fabric protecting her private areas. "You're… horrible…" she finished lamely, but she could get out nothing more, for in that moment, his lips had found hers once again, and their tongues were thrashing wildly about together.

He was cackling when they came up for air, removing his hand from within her and inserting it into his mouth as he shook with amused laughter. "So," he gasped, having licked his fingers clean, "taking all that into consideration… do you still think I'm not all that bad?"

Ginny nodded, continuously stubborn.

"I take amusement in how increasingly forgiving you are, Ginny."

She smiled, pulling herself from his grip and inching toward the door. "I really ought to be going, Draco. Harry's birthday is tomorrow, and…"

"Oh, is it?" Draco's arrogant features suddenly twisted into a fierce expression of malicious excitement. "If we meet again tomorrow, I might actually grow to respect you for your priorities."

The smile was wiped from her face immediately. "You think you're more important than Harry in my life? Is that it?"

"Potter is a fool," he laughed, ignoring her question, "for not having a good enough hold on a prize like you." His eyes raked her body, but she felt suddenly disgusted.

"Harry is not a fool," she spat, "and I am his, completely and totally! I _love_ him. You're nothing but convenient, Draco." She was trying to offend him, but it did not work, apparently.

The smug look of amusement did not vanish from his face. "So tell me, how many times has Potter actually fucked you?"

"You sick-o! That is none of your business!"

"He was that bad, was he?"

"For your information, he was perfectly satisfactory."

"Aha! So how many times has it been?"

She was fuming. "Once," she admitted, "and it was very nice."

"Ah, but _I_ have had you three times by now, and already I can tell you're not one to settle for 'nice.' The things you put up with from me… the desperate passion that your body can exude while submitting entirely to my control that I _know_ you crave…" Draco's eyes were bright and shining with mounting lust again. "…It is more than clear the things your need: the things your body requires to feel _much_ _more_ than satisfied… _much more_ than just 'very nice.'"

Ginny swelled with ache for Draco's hands on her again, but she shook the feeling off, remembering her irritation at him. How dare he try to tell her he was better for her than Harry was? How _dare_ he?

"You keep insulting Harry like that, and I swear, you'll never have another chance to satisfy me ever again."

He had her against the door in an instant, and his hardness was rubbing against her most sensitive parts beneath her skirt, so that she was suddenly wet again. "Draco," she groaned as his body pulsed stiffly around her. He chuckled, and pulled away, leaving her in a state of disappointed desperation.

"Your threats are empty," he told her. "Even after these few short days, you're addicted to me already."

"I am not—"

"Once you've had me," he hissed in her ear, "I'm all that _can _satisfy."

"Tomorrow," she sighed, ignoring his self-obsessed comment, and slipping from the room with a last look at Draco's sneering face.

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews are delicious! Yay! 


	11. Human On The Inside, All You Wanted

**A/N:** This chapter was originally two separate chapters, but after struggling with it for like a half an hour, I decided it should just be one chapter. Otherwise, they'd both have been too short for my liking. I donno. Weird. Bah.

Poor Ginny. I think I started making both of them out of character... oh god... BAD JESSA BETH!!!! AAH!!! I think I made Ginny too weak, and Draco too soft. This is bad. Bad, bad, bad. Wah.

OH WELLS! ENJOY!! YAYYYY!!!

* * *

An echoing slap and reverberated through Ginny's memory, and she felt Draco's hand on her cheek again, frightening her into a half-waking state. Someone soft and gentle was kissing her neck. "What—?" she blundered in confusion as lethargy pressed on her heavy, closed eyelids. She yawned widely, and stretched. Her hand lightly collided with someone's soft messy hair, and she smiled into her pillow. 

"Happy birthday, Harry," she sighed comfortably, opening her eyes slightly to squint at him. He was smiling fully at her, and his green eyes were so bright with complete adoration that she felt suddenly dizzy.

He leaned forward, and kissed Ginny's forehead. "You're right," he cooed. "It is my birthday. What do you think we should do about it?" Grinning mischievously, he nuzzled her playfully. Something fiery in his gaze set her off, and, running her fingers over the simple lightning scar on his forehead first, she kissed him passionately.

"_Now_, Ginny?" he asked her incredulously with a laugh as her hands began to travel down his body and caress him in intimate places.

She groaned, letting her arms fall limp again, but she was still smiling. "You're right," she squeaked. "It's too early. I'm so _sleepy_!" She yawned, her point proven. She snuggled close to Harry, who wrapped his arms lazily around her.

Giggling, she reached up again, and tangled her fingers into his black hair. She was sweet in her stroking motions, and adoring in the gentle kisses that she began to plant along his neck and collarbone. "Mm," Harry groaned at her touch. "I love you, Ginny."

Her heart ached from the tenderness with which he said the words. Her mind felt numb with guilt. The knowledge that she was sleeping with Draco Malfoy behind Harry's back made her insides hurt dreadfully as she stared into Harry's eyes and felt her love for him confirmed. "I love you, too," she sighed, before rolling from his grasp and sitting upright. "So," she said enthusiastically, "does nineteen feel any different than eighteen?"

Harry laughed. "Not really," he yawned.

Sliding from bed to put on a comfortable dress, Ginny asked, "Got anything particular you wanted to do today?"

"Oh, I don't know," he sighed, sitting up as well, "but I thought that perhaps we could spend some time together, y'know… maybe take Teddy out, or something, then later you and I could go to dinner."

She smiled. "That sounds nice." He stood, and her eyes raked his naked chest. As he pulled on a pair of pants, she slipped behind him, and wrapped her arms around his body, letting her fingertips scrutinize his smooth chest. His soft hands closed around hers, and she could feel him leaning back against her. She pressed her face to his shoulder blades, and inhaled the delicious scent of his tender skin. They stood that way in comfortable, loving silence for several minutes, until at last Harry made a sound.

"Ginny," he whispered, "I'm going to put my shirt on, okay?"

"Oh, right. Okay. Sorry," she said disappointedly, and slid her arms from around him.

* * *

Teddy's hair was a vivid blue when Ginny and Harry arrived at Mrs. Tonks' home. "Oh, Teddy!" Ginny cried, lifting the child from his highchair. "Blue, today, is it?" 

She kissed Teddy on his nose, and when she pulled back, the blue had gone, and his hair was jet black. His face was freckled, like Ginny's, and his eyes the same brown as hers. She giggled, and stroked Teddy's silky head as Harry took him from her, hugging him close. "Oh, Teddy," he was saying, "I am so fortunate to have a godson like you." His smile was so warm, Ginny couldn't help but feel it contagious, and she smiled as well. Then Harry whispered to the child in his arms so that Mrs. Tonks could not hear what he said. "And you are fortunate that I am not in Azkaban for the murder of your parents."

Ginny laughed, but supposed that it was lucky Teddy didn't fully understand Harry's statement.

Mrs. Tonks let them take Teddy, and they agreed when she told them to have him back by late afternoon.

Little Ted was a joy to keep with them that morning. His tiny hands were gentle and soft upon Ginny's face as they clung to her cheeks so sweetly. She was warmed by his small form's presence. She felt made to be with children, and at that feeling, she thought of Draco, and how well the evil man took to him, and how happy the little boy had seemed to make him.

Teddy loved Zonko's. He reveled in the mad toys and prank objects that Harry presented to the boy. His scream of delight was sugary and charming, and it appealed greatly to the maternal instincts that dwelled inside of Ginny. The child looked like theirs, like a breed of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, and it was such a strange wonder to think she may in fact have one like it. Her fingers twirled around Harry's, and they linked then at the hands, their happy palms embraced while Teddy rested in Ginny's arms. From the store they wandered, hand in hand, to the diner that had once been Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor.

They ate with calm chatter on their tongues, and their fine words of love kept Ginny's mind at bay from thoughts of the man she knew she should abandon. Still she thought of Draco, and her skull was surely aflame as it pounded so to think of him. It ached and throbbed, but still she stayed upright, though she had half a mind to collapse with guilt and grief. Perhaps it was the heat.

"You don't look very well," Harry pointed out, his brow pressed into an expression of sympathetic concern.

"She never does, Potter," drawled an unwelcome tone to make her heart stop.

Ginny felt faint. If she looked did in fact look slight, as Harry said she did, she felt it even more strongly than he thought, and even more so when Draco's wan face spun to view.

"Malfoy," Harry said curtly, nodding his head to the man who stood above their table, though it was clear from the glint in the green that his eyes were not expressing kind reunion, but rather annoyance at the other man's mere existence.

Draco sneered. "Potter," he replied in greeting. "I've heard the happy news that you and the youngest Weasley are getting married." A horrible smugness appeared upon his contrastingly ashen expression. "Preparing to make lots of little Potters so that you both can die when they're a year old, too?"

Harry was on his feet. Ginny clung protectively to Teddy, who had already begun to snatch at the air for Draco. She noticed his grey eyes glance fleetingly to the toddler in her grasp, and she thought she might have witnessed longing flit through them for just an instant before he turned back to Harry, who was already fuming.

"Harry," Ginny warned, trying to forget Draco's hands… trying to pretend they had never felt her, that they'd never taken her and claimed her more times that Harry ever had. "Harry, it's only Malfoy. He doesn't deserve a fight."

"Yeah," Draco smirked, his tone soaked through with madness, "listen to the little weasel: she knows what she's talking about." His eyes turned to her, and their gazes caught. She was breathless, her heart beating furiously against Teddy's back as she squeezed him tightly to her breast. His eyes shone bright, hypnotic silver as they bore into her, and her lips fell slightly apart, unwillingly, so she could draw an impossible breath.

"You're right, Ginny," Harry agreed through gritted teeth, still seething at Draco, "He's just not worth it."

Draco gave a small haughty chuckle. "Oh, so you just trust her right away, do you? You're just going to stand there and take whatever she tells you?" Ginny clung to Teddy. He _wouldn't,_ she told herself. "You're just going to stand there and not question her about what she says and does?"

"_I_ don't feel the need to control women, Malfoy, unlike _you_."

Her heartbeat was painfully fast, like a hummingbird buried within her chest.

"Well maybe she needs a little control, Potter," Malfoy hissed, his voice low, and his eyebrows raised in overconfidence. "A pretty girl, so poor… you never know what a little slut like that is doing every night, right behind your back."

Wands were drawn in a flurry of anger and hatred. "DON'T YOU _DARE_ CALL HER THAT!" Harry shouted. People in the little outside diner were turning their heads in shock, staring at the two men. They had their wands at each other's throats.

Ginny stood, too, Teddy being shuffled into one arm so her other hand could extract her own wand. "Expelliarmus," she cried, pointing her weapon at both men. Two wands flew into the air, and into her hand. She held them tightly in a furious fist. Her expression was so formidable that both enraged men seemed to cave under her glare, and shut their mouths. Draco lowered his empty hand, thrusting it gruffly into his pocket, and turning his nose up at her. She hated how well he knew her when she saw him in this setting, and she could feel all her old dislike of him come flooding back to her. His cold and calculating stare made sure she felt it now, like they were back in school, and she wanted to burst—to simply explode with sudden rage, to scream, to throw things into Draco Malfoy's stupid, evil, cocky, interfering face. "You're pathetic," she told them both in a forced calm. "_Both_ of you: Stop being childish, and get over your petty grudges so you can live your lives again!"

"And _you_," she rumbled directly to Draco, "are a particularly pathetic, slimy little _git_. Get out of here." She handed him back his wand. For several moments, he merely looked at her. She remained stubbornly furious, though it felt as though his piercing silver eyes were raping her. At long last, he turned, the swish of his cloak mocking her as he went.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Harry said, still panting with fury. "I lost my temper, and I'm sorry."

She almost hated that he was apologizing. Draco never apologized. He never apologized for teasing her, or for using her body, for making her bleed, for tying her up, hitting her…

"Don't be sorry to _me_, Harry. It's _your_ birthday. I'm just surprised you'd let someone like Draco Malfoy get to you like that." She mentally kicked herself for what a hypocrite she was being.

"I know," he said, sounding ashamed, "but I couldn't let him talk about you like that… I just couldn't." His eyes were glistening at her, and she felt herself breaking under their penetratingly romantic stare. Shame was gripping her as she thought of the fact that there were a truckload of other things she knew he would never let Draco do concerning her, but half of them he was already doing, without Harry having even a clue.

* * *

That night was torrential agony. Upon arriving home after having dropped Teddy off at his grandmother's, Ginny conjured up a birthday cake, and handed Harry the gift she had gotten him. As the night pressed on, and Ginny did not have Draco upon her, she began to feel ill. She had told him she would meet him, but here she was, with Harry, and not with Draco. Her skin felt hot and deprived as she craved his brutality, but sat upon hers and Harry's bed unsatisfied. Harry wanted her, but she just felt pained and guilty to let him have her anymore. She was restraining herself, caging in her desire, and it was making her sick. She had thought she could do it—thought she could handle not going to meet him when she said she would—but it hurt. She could imagine Draco standing in Knockturn Alley hopefully, waiting for her, that sneer still present on his cruelly beautiful face. She could imagine his annoyance that he had been stood up by a Weasley, his frustration that he cared, and then his raging exit. She could picture it all. But… would he care? Would he really be so annoyed, or was she fooling herself to believe he cared about her? 

Unreleased sobs were making her ache and choke, and she felt suddenly nauseous. She and Harry were sitting at the table in the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place, and she felt so dirty while she looked at him, knowing what she'd done, and knowing what a good life she could be leading with Harry if she didn't have her energies spent on the dreaded Draco Malfoy. She hated Draco so much right then that it hurt violently.

"Are you okay, Ginny?" Harry asked her suddenly. "You look kind of ill."

"Uh… no, actually," she admitted, avoiding Harry's gaze. "I feel sick. Sorry, Harry." And at that, she stood, and retreated to the bathroom on shaking legs.

Ginny pulled down the toilet's cover, and sat shakily upon it, staring down guiltily at her feet. She wanted so to leave Draco entirely… to give him up, and just return to being fully Harry's. "Yes," she whispered to herself. "I must."

She nodded silently to herself. She felt decided. She doubted she could do it, for her entire body was pulsating with a fixated need for him, but she had to. "I have to leave you, Draco," she whispered.

A knock made her jump. "Are you alright in there, Ginny?" Harry's voice called through the closed door.

"Yeah," she lied in a raspy voice. "I'm fine, Harry. Thanks, though. I'll be out in a second."

She stood, determined at last to ignore the existence of the man who she had only been with for several days, but who had already become the drug she found she needed and craved.

* * *

Sunday passed harrowingly slowly. She had survived Saturday night, though her mind had many times betrayed her—cogitating over the possibility of sneaking out to hunt Draco down. She was proud that she had not done it, that she still remained by Harry's side the next day, but by Monday, she was exhausted with the strain and stress of keeping it all in. George made a point to inform her that she looked terrible—again—but she brushed him off, and spent her day fantasizing as she sold things. She must have had a dazed look upon her face, because several times, customers asked her if she was alright, and she'd been forced to give them a false, simpering smile, and wave them off with a sickly sweet "Have a good day!" 

Ginny left that night feeling anguished and desperate. She walked from the shop slowly, taking her time to wander down the cobbled street. Her steps seemed to be moving forward on their own, though her thoughts were cautious. Should she go back to Knockturn Alley? Should she wait in the street, here, to see if he would come? Why did she care? As it was, her logic got the best of her, and she turned on the spot, but saw a distinctly silver pair of eyes watching her just as she disappeared into the crushing air.

Tuesday could not come fast enough. She had seen him there in Diagon Alley again… she was sure of it. Would he come again? Seeing him again, waiting for her, wanting her, had made her lose the logic that had strengthened her to disapparate that night. Hope that she would see him again was what got her through the day. She didn't know how George was able to do it every day, but she found that having something to look forward to—like Draco's hands on her—certainly helped her pass the time.

She was out of breath by the time she found him. It wasn't hard to find him, however, for he had been waiting for her. They stared at one another, their eyes demonstrating their apologies silently. Ginny's hair fell messily down her back, and her neck was sweating beneath the scarlet curtain. She was feeling very self conscious under Draco's knowing glare, and it made her notice everything about herself: Her hair was a mess, she was sweaty, her nails were uneven and unkempt, her feet probably smelled bad, and she felt kind of bloated. She knew she must look disgusting as a whole, and her mind couldn't help racing through all these things as she stared at Draco, whose icy silver eyes seemed to consume her.

"Draco," she finally croaked, shoving her self-depleting thoughts from her mind, "why are you so cruel?"

He blinked at her, his lips thin as they pressed together in thought. When they parted, they seemed stiff, as though they had not spoken in a very long while. They were dry, and she saw him lick them once before speaking at last. "I'm sorry for what I called you," he said.

She crossed her arms. "I can't believe you would honestly go that far. You were making me crazy, saying all those things to Harry."

"I'm sorry," he said again. He looked uncharacteristically solemn, and it invoked an undesirable sympathy within her.

Trying to ignore it, she sighed. "Why did you have to say that stuff anyway?"

Draco straightened his posture, and looked down his pointed nose at her, glaring. "I'm still me, Ginny," he hissed, "even if your first name is a part of my vocabulary."

"Right," she snapped, "so you'll just always hate me and Harry. I'm sorry; I forgot Malfoys don't have normal human emotions!"

His haughty, arrogant expression melted suddenly into an ice cold glare of painful confusion. "That's not true," he whispered. She watched his chest rise and fall as he caught his breath to speak again. She looked directly into his eyes, but they glanced away from her then, staring at a point near her shoes. She curled her toes self consciously as he went on. "I don't… I can't…" He swallowed. "I can't hate you anymore, Ginny." His voice was barely above a whisper, but she heard him.

Were her veins really frozen? Did her heart really stop? Was she even still alive? She could feel her body standing there still, and feel herself breathing shallowly where she stood, but she could not be sure that it was real. If Draco Malfoy didn't hate her—a Weasley—then who was to be certain of what was real and what wasn't? The entire world felt upside down, all because of him.

She must have been speechless with shock for a long time, because Draco was suddenly saying, "Ginny? Are you okay?"

"Uh…" was all she could get out. It hadn't been such a big deal. Why was she taking it so deeply to heart? "Yeah. Just…" She didn't know what else to say. "Yeah," she said again.

"I realized it on Saturday," he sighed. His hands were buried in his pockets, and he looked almost ashamed. "As it turned out, I didn't like to see you so angry. On Sunday I realized that I actually wanted to apologize. Then yesterday I had a mere glimpse of you, and I realized that…" His voice broke as he finished, "I missed you."

Her insides seemed to have evaporated. She had no response to his abnormally sentimental words, except to lift herself upon her toes, lean forward, and place her lips tenderly on his.

Draco's mouth was soft and warm, and sweeter than she remembered. He took her in his arms as her knees weakened and gave way, and with his lips still embracing hers, he disapparated.

When she felt fresh air again, she pulled away from him to look around. They were at the Hogs Head again. "We really need a better place," she breathed into his open mouth. His exhales warmed her face as he breathed on her, and she smiled.

"We do," he agreed quietly, but rapped the top of her head with his wand to disillusion her. They slipped inside, and took a room from Aberforth, who glared suspiciously at Draco, clearly wondering why a Malfoy would need a room in his pub, of all the places in the world.

Inside the private room, Ginny felt Draco's wand on her head again, and then they were kissing again. They spoke no words as they undressed and fell together upon the bed. He took her shamelessly again, and she was groaning madly beneath him. She took it as respect that he drew no blood, and as she felt herself reaching that ecstatic acme of pleasure, Draco sighed, "Ginny," into her hair, but otherwise said nothing.

"Draco," she whispered in the comfortable moments afterwards. "Why don't you hate me?"

He breathed deeply beside her. "Because you make me feel," he admitted calmly, the honesty of this statement chilling Ginny to the bone, but warming her heart. "Why didn't you stay away?" he asked.

Ginny gave a small, hollow laugh. "Being with you," she confessed, "hurts; it hurts, and I love it. I guess I'm just a sucker for pain."

She sucked in a sharp breath of surprise when he unexpectedly scraped her bare breast with his fingernails. "So I've grown fond of you," Draco stated simply, "and you've grown to love what I do to you." He began to gently kiss her neck, and her eyes rolled. Against her skin, he mumbled, "I guess we're bonding." She shuddered against his mouth's caress of her throat, collarbone, and shoulder. Quite suddenly, however, he pulled away, and stared her in the face. "So is this what we're doomed to?" he sighed. "Is this how we're going to live our lives: In this secret freak show of passion, and never anything more?"

"I really don't know, Draco," Ginny whispered. "I really just don't know anything about what I'm doing, or why I'm doing it. You make me crazy, and you're messing up my life, but…" She snuggled into his chest. "I love the way you make me feel, and I don't want to stop feeling that."

"What is that?"

"I don't know," she admitted sadly against him, nuzzling his soft, pale skin.

Draco sighed, and she felt his chest swell and release beneath her head. His heart was beating fast beneath her ear, and it was making her feel sleepy to listen to it, like a beautiful, natural lullaby. She thought about the things this man had done. She thought about the people hurt in the wake of his arrogance, and the lives lost because of his pathetic cowardice. Her fingers clutched him to her, as though to protect him from her own thoughts. He felt remorse: Wasn't that enough to redeem him?

She planted a kiss upon his chest, and she felt him tremble. "Ginny," he said softly, "tell me about the future."

She looked up at him. "What?"

"Tell me about the future… a _good_ future."

Ginny was surprised, but she didn't oppose the command. "Um… okay." Several white-blonde strands of Draco's silky hair were plastered to his calm, sweaty face. A serene smile lingered upon his lips, and his eyes were closed comfortably. Never before had she seen him more at ease, or more vulnerable. "Well, in a good future," she began, unsure of what to say exactly, "Um… there'll be no fear, and no need to hate. There won't be any such thing as 'blood status,' and everyone will live in harmony." Draco snorted incredulously, but still looked peaceful, as though her voice were calming him. "In a good future, you'll learn there's such a thing as love, and learn not to always listen to your bonehead of a father." Draco's smile widened. "I'll stop working at my brother's shop, and play Quidditch for the rest of my life, and you'll realize that money really doesn't mean anything about a person. Maybe you'll even work."

"Doubtful," Draco sneered, his eyes still closed, and his face still placid.

"Well, in this future, you do. Oh, and you have lots of beautiful children who love you, and who you treat loads better than your father treated you."

"Yeah?" he questioned, an eyebrow raised. "Well I hope the mother has the sense to leave me and take the damned kids with her."

Ginny smacked him on the side of his head, and he jerked his eyes open, laughing. He rolled over, tackling her to the bed, and silenced her attempted squeal with a passionate kiss. When he pulled back, she was breathless. "So, am I in your future?" he asked her meaningfully.

"I don't know, Draco," she sighed, brushing his hair with her fingers. "You make everything difficult."

"Why, because you're still in love with Saint _Potter_?" he spat, his face suddenly furious again.

She felt anger flare within her. "Yes," she said firmly, "I _am_! Why… are you _jealous_, Draco?" This question was meant to tease, and she had not been expecting his shaking hands to fly shamefully to his face, nor for him to roll back onto the bed beside her, looking confused.

"A little," he admitted quietly.

"Oh," was all she could think to reply. All her anger deserted her as she wondered about the man beside her. He was a criminal… an ex-Death Eater… a _Malfoy_! But he was displaying _feelings_ for her—a _Weasley_!

* * *

**A/N:** REVIEW, PEOPLE! I LOVE YOU!! Pleeeease let me know what you think! This chapter gave me issues, so please let me know what's going on with it!! Thanks!! 


	12. Easy Silence

**A/N:** Woooowwwww, this is a long one. I hope you can stand it! First it's fluffy (BABIES!! EEEEP!!), and then it's really DRAMATIC, so I hope you can survive through it. It's like ten pages on my microsoft word, yikes. Ah, well, I hope you like it anyway! I thank all of you who are actually sticking with me through this tedious story. It's a LOT of fun to write, so you're lucky that I don't wanna just GIVE UP, like I tend to do with most of my other stuff. Oh, and by the way, I did in fact write this on August 11th--Ginny's birthday--but when I got all excited that it was done and went to post it... wah, fanfiction wouldn't let me upload documents. Then it wouldn't even let me log in! I was so upset! But now it's all working again, so HERE IT IS!! HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, GINNY!!

ENJOY THE CHAPTER!!

* * *

The days went quickly for Ginny, whose state of mind was determined by the time that she was able to indulge with Draco. Less and less time she came to spend with Harry, for her entire being seemed to scream for Draco Malfoy at all hours of the day and night, and it left no room for wanting Harry anymore. She loved his presence, yes: she spent her time with Harry in happy calm as she waited for the night to come so she might then return to Draco's bed. His feelings for her were not mentioned again since he had admitted he was jealous of Harry. The only words the two exchanged were those of passion, but not emotion. 

But as the week progressed, the line between their passion and their emotions wore thin, and she was stricken with guilt to realize it. The nature of their relationship deepened. She craved his presence—dreamed of it, pined for it, breathed its possibilities even when he was not near, needed it to survive now, as though it were oxygen. Barely a thing could distract her from the blinding passion that possessed her soul.

On the Sunday before her own birthday, however, an incredible fact did bring her back to Earth from her paradise with Draco.

"SHE'S HAD IT!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked with piercing glee to her household, and Ginny was glad to be present at the arrival of the news. "SHE'S HAD IT! FLEUR'S HAD IT!"

"What?" Ginny gasped. "_What_? She… Fleur…?"

"FLEUR HAD THE _BABY_!" The woman collapsed at the kitchen table beside her daughter, husband, and sons, the letter bearing the information clutched in a white, shaking fist. "Oh!" she cried mirthfully. "My first grandchild!" Tears were streaming down her brilliantly scarlet cheeks, and Ginny began to squeal beside her, while Ron sat stunned.

George let out a whoop of delight to rival even Mrs. Weasley's. "I've got a nephew!" he shouted to the ceiling, punching a fist into the air in excitement. "I've got a nephew! He'll be my student in the art of pranks, and he'll—!"

"You've actually got a _niece_," Mrs. Weasley corrected him.

"A…?"

"Ooh," Ginny squealed. "A girl! A GIRL!" She leapt into the air, twirling about her mother happily. "Oh, what's her name?"

Mrs. Weasley screamed. "The letter didn't say! Oh, Bill, how could you not say?" she shouted at the paper in her fists. "I can't believe him! Oh, we have to go… we have to go see them!"

"_Now_?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Of _course_, now, Ron!" Ginny cried in agreement with her mother. "Ooh, it's so _exciting_! Another Weasley! This is so _wonderful_!"

"It is!" George shouted. "But she'd better not turn out to have as many boyfriends as you did in school, Ginny," he added sternly, his eyes narrowing at his little sister.

"I did not have so many," she scowled, placing her angry hands on her hips to present a fearsome aura, but the glow in her cheeks from the news of Bill's and Fleur's daughter made an angry look impossible.

Mr. Weasley stood, and flung his arms around his wife. "Oh, Molly, this is fantastic!" he cried. "We really ought to go and visit them now! Oh, this is just so wonderful! Nothing could make me happier now!" He kissed Ginny on her cheek, and she grimaced with a laugh. "Our little girl is getting married, and our oldest just had a little girl of his own! Oh, what a wondrous time!" Ginny's heart flip-flopped to remember her marriage to Harry. Guilt befell her again, but she pushed it to the back of her mind as her father was straightening his cloak and linking arms with her mother. "Let's go, Weasleys!" he cried with a wink, and the two of them disapparated.

Ron rolled his eyes at his father, but a goofy grin across his face made him seem like a giddy child. He disapparated, and Ginny followed with George.

Charlie was already at Shell Cottage with Bill, who sat at the table looking anxious, but happy. His long red hair was wild, and his freckles nearly disappeared behind the pink in his cheeks. George reached him first. "Congratulations, old boy!" George cried, whacking him on his back hard as he hugged him pompously.

"Thanks, George… Mum!" Bill called as he wrenched himself from George's grasp and giving his mother a tight, one-armed embrace. "Dad!" The two men did not hesitate to hug, and they clutched each other emotionally, making Ginny giggle slightly.

Bill turned to her with a wide grin. "Ginny," he said happily, hugging her.

"Oh, Bill, I can't believe it!" she squeaked against his shoulder as he clung to her. "You're a father!"

"I know!" he said, sounding almost as high-pitched and squeaky as Ginny did. "I can't believe it either! Isn't it incredible?" He looked wistfully at the back of the house, where she assumed Fleur must be.

"So," she pressed with excitement, wringing her brother's hands in hers, "where's Fleur? And where's the baby?"

Bill beamed. "They're in the back. Fleur insisted on privacy until she had put on proper clothes for company, and she refused help, even though it's right after the birth, but, well… you know her, she's a stubborn one!" He looked positively ecstatic as he turned to the lot of them as though to make a speech. "The baby's name is _Victoire_," he announced with a dreamy sigh, "in honor of our victory over You-Know-Who!"

The room cheered, and as claps filled the air, and screams of appreciation met everyone's ears, a lofty clearing of a female throat caught everyone's attention. The room fell silent, and all heads turned to Fleur.

She looked stunning even after giving birth, her stomach still round. She was clearly a bit weak, and she clutched the side of the doorway for support, but she was beautiful. Her silver-blonde hair—that reminded Ginny terribly of Draco's—was flowing in an unseen wind that seemed to follow only her around, and her face appeared to glow much more even than usual. There was faint pink in her cheeks, and her red lips were split in a delicate grin that lit the whole room with her breathtaking beauty. In her graceful arms, a tiny bundle of blankets rustled against her. "'Ello, everyone!" she beamed, fussing with the blankets she was holding so that they shifted around, and a tiny, round face poked out from between the folds.

There was a mass squeal from a majority of the room that excluded Bill, Charlie, Ron, and Fleur, who clutched her baby tightly to her bosom at the sound, as though to shield her from it. Fleur would let no one touch her newborn daughter, of course, but they all leaned close to the little girl, and Ginny was overjoyed to look upon her newborn niece. Tiny Victoire's face was small and round and pink, and her tiny tuft of golden hair seemed to shine. Like Fleur, the child appeared to glow. Ginny could just make out little freckles across Victoire's little cheeks, before the girl blinked open her squinty eyes, and yawned, her small fists waving about, and her feet kicking Fleur confusedly. Ginny gave a squeak of adoration, but Fleur pushed her away. "Get away! You are crowding my daughter!" she cried. "Please!" and she swept over to Bill. Her eyes batted imploringly at him, and he waved his family off as he poured over his wife and child.

Ginny apparated back to Grimmauld Place feeling elated by the birth of Victoire. "Oh, Harry!" she cried, throwing her arms around him. "Fleur had her baby! It's a girl!"

"She did? A girl? That's wonderful!" he laughed, lifting her off her feet and twirling her around. They kissed. For the first time in what seemed like far too long, Ginny forgot all about Draco, and the problems he was giving her. At the moment, there was nothing but her, Harry, and the happy news of new life.

* * *

On August 11th, Ginny awoke to a pair of hands on her face, stroking her cheeks lightly. "Mm," she mumbled, smiling a cozy smile to the man touching her. Opening her eyes, she found Harry beside her. 

"Happy birthday," he told her happily. "How does it feel to be eighteen?"

She laughed, and pushed him away, rolling over to get out of bed and put on proper clothing. "No different than seventeen."

"Got plans after work tonight?"

"Yes, actually," she said, her heart sinking as she lied: "Luna was going to come shopping with me."

"Ah," was Harry's response as disappointment made his face fall.

Ginny stopped dressing, and turned back to her fiancé. "Don't feel bad, Harry," she told him calmingly. Leaning toward him, she planted a soft kiss on his lips, and she pulled away to find him smiling dazedly.

He, too, slid out of bed at that, and began to put on his clothes for Auror training. "Well I hope you have a good time," he said sadly, kissing her again as he buttoned up his Auror's robes.

The truth was screaming inside of Ginny, but she held it in. The previous night, she and Draco had argued until he convinced her to skip work on her birthday, and spend it with him. She had never spent a whole day with Draco, and didn't know if she could stand it, but his eyes had been so unusually soft, and his lips in such an uncommonly sweet smile, that she couldn't help but trust him, and agree.

"We're getting married," Harry sighed happily into her shoulder as he embraced her once they were both dressed. "In three days, we're getting married."

"I know," she choked, feeling strange about it. She didn't know how she felt anymore. She knew she loved Harry—she _knew_ she did—but she was uncertain, now, about marrying him. It felt so soon. She was only seventeen… eighteen, as of this day, but even that felt still too young. Was she signing her life away by marrying Harry this early in her life?

She tried to pretend that Draco wasn't itching at the back of her mind, taunting her, and making her doubt herself. She tried to pretend that she was just being stupid.

When she had kissed Harry goodbye and waved him off, she retreated to their room again to glance quickly at herself in the mirror. She hated herself for how she worried over her appearance to go visit someone as unworthy as Draco Malfoy. He wouldn't care, would he? A little voice in her head reminded her that he was jealous of Harry, and that he no longer hated her. "Why, though?" she asked herself, looking her reflection up and down with distaste. She wasn't anything particularly beautiful. She had no money, and she was—in his mind—a 'blood-traitor.' She wished he would have been more specific about his feelings, so she could stop being so mixed up. He didn't hate her, for he had grown used to her, and oddly fond of her company. That was all.

Shaking her head in confusion, she sighed, and left Grimmauld Place to disapparate.

Knockturn Alley looked much less creepy in early morning sun. She blinked as the white rays blinded her. When she had finally adjusted to the bright sunlight, she glanced around. Draco was already standing behind her, smirking.

"I can't believe you talked me into this, Draco," she sighed in irritation.

"You'll get over it," he sneered, glaring at her. They shared a moment of silence, during which the true strangeness of their relationship made Ginny feel suddenly awkward. She liked her time with Draco, but hated it because she hated to like it. And yet, she loved hating to like it, but that only made her feel guilty. Her emotions were spinning around in her brain like a stupid, nonsensical, endless tornado.

She cleared her throat. "So what was this about? Why did you want to meet so early?"

He shrugged. "It is your birthday," he stated.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Yes, I know that, thank you."

Draco narrowed his eyes to glare at her in annoyance. "I have something for you," he spat irritably, rolling his eyes.

"Oh," she said awkwardly. "Why?"

He glanced at the sky in exasperation. "Because it is your birthday, and giving a gift to someone on their birthday is a tradition known well throughout the world." He smirked, one eyebrow raised, and he was clearly on the verge of laughing.

She glared at him, but with a smile upon her face. "Yes, yes, I know." She slid her hands into the pockets of her shorts, and bounced childishly on the balls of her feet. "So…" She grinned playfully at him. "What'd you get me?" It was strange enough that a Weasley and a Malfoy had a relationship, but it struck her as even stranger that a Malfoy would have gotten a Weasley anything for her birthday. It was almost… considerate, which was a quality Malfoys were not known to posses.

The expression on Draco's face became suddenly mischievous and secretive. "You'll see," he told her mysteriously. He reached out, and took a rough hold on her arm, his grip tight. She felt him spinning away from her, but grabbed his hand to keep it on her arm as they disapparated together.

Clean air hit her lungs as they landed, and the rustling of wind and loud voices met her ears. She looked around as Draco let go of her. They were on a Quidditch field, the ground soft and grassy. The hoops on either end of the pitch were far taller than those at Hogwarts, and three people were flying above them, racing toward one set of goals where a Keeper waited. She watched them each try to score, but only one of them made it in. She watched, awe-struck, as they flew back to a little crowd of people waiting on the ground several yards from where she and Draco stood. "Where are we?" she asked him incredulously, already realizing the answer as they noticed several of them wearing dark green Quidditch robes, with golden talons sewn across their chests…

"Ilkley Moor," he said. She stared at him.

"What is this?" she gasped, her face painted in obvious shock.

He grinned, and she felt his hand on her back, nudging her toward the crowd. "One of their Chasers left. They're holding tryouts. Go."

"Are you kidding me?" she hissed out of the corner of her mouth. It was then that she noticed Gwenog Jones—captain of the Holyhead Harpies. Ginny's eyes were wide, and her heart was hammering.

Draco did not answer, but as the woman turned in their direction and spotted them, he waved at her. He wore again his usual cold, stoic expression, but his eyes were twinkling as he pushed Ginny forward. "I'm not," he laughed. "In your perfect future, you played Quidditch, so here's your chance."

"But—"

"No buts," he whispered sternly as Gwenog Jones made her way over to them. "Just do it."

"But I'm not prepared! I haven't even got a broom!

He didn't seem to hear her. "Ah, Gwenog Jones, I'd like you to meet Ginny Weasley, who's trying out today, too."

Ginny shot Draco an angry glare as the woman shook her hand. She looked only mildly interested in Ginny, and seemed extremely stressed. "Miss Weasley," she said in greeting, "How nice to meet you. And, uh… how old are you?"

"Eighteen," Ginny squeaked, terrified.

"Young," said Gwenog Jones, looking her up and down. "That's good."

"Uh… thank you?" Ginny said uncertainly.

"Yes, well, let's hope you're better than some of the rubbish I've seen this morning. The Malfoys have never let me down before, so I'm trusting Draco on this."

The fact that she trusted a family like the Malfoys made Ginny even more nervous. Anyone who thought that the Malfoys were trustworthy was probably not someone to be trusted. But she had no time to protest, for already the team leader was dragging her by the arm into the midst of the crowd of witches. Most of them looked anxious, but some were determinedly confident. The actual team was standing slightly apart from the crowd, watching the next three speeding toward the goals. Their Keeper looked bored as she blocked every shot made at her hoops.

Ginny was made to stand at the back of the crowd, which, she realized, was actually a line of triplets. She stood at the back beside two other scared looking witches who were talking very fast. "Excuse me," she called to Gwenog Jones, who was watching the three flyers land irritably. She checked something on her clipboard, and looked at Ginny. "Um… I don't have a broom," she confessed. "Is that alright?"

"Yes," Gwenog snapped. "It's fine. We have brooms to use if you need it."

"Thank you," Ginny said meekly. As the captain walked away from her, Ginny looked down at her muggle attire. She hadn't bothered with her witches robes today, but now regretted it. She was the only one in a shirt and shorts, while everyone else wore robes. They were all equipped with Chaser's gloves, and most were carrying broomsticks. Her heart pulsed madly in her throat as the next three witches mounted their brooms, and sped off toward the goal posts.

The line shortened quickly. Most people were impressively horrible, but some were rather good. A few were so good that Ginny felt suddenly like there was no reason for her to be here. She couldn't believe she was doing this. Several times, she glanced furiously at Draco. His hair shone pure white in the violent sun, and his eyes, which were squinted against the rays, sparkled smugly at her. He was smirking as he sat back lazily in the stands. There were a lot of people there, waiting for their friends and family members to try out, but Draco stuck out amongst them, glowing in the morning light. Every time Ginny snuck a glance at him, she couldn't resist the annoying fluttering sensation that bubbled in her stomach. He was frustratingly attractive, and it made her angry to realize it. So distracted by Draco's presence, she found herself shocked to realize that she and the two witches beside her were next.

She was handed a broom by Gwenog Jones, and after stuttering her thanks, she mounted it, and took off. It felt stunning to be back on a broom. Up in the air, she forgot all about Draco, and all about Harry. She gave a single cheerful loop before speeding off after the other two and toward the goals. The first two both made their goals, though the first witch did so only by a fraction of an inch. When Ginny was passed the Quaffle, it felt like she was back in her own world. This was what she did best.

She made an obvious jerk toward the left goal post, and as the Keeper swerved, she threw it into the middle hoop. Her delight was interrupted as they were called immediately back to the ground by Gwenog Jones. She followed the other two to join the hoard of witches in the stands, where everyone who had gone before them was now sitting.

"You all did an excellent job," Gwenog shouted, gathering their attention, "but the Holyhead Harpies are a very selective team. The rest of the team and I are going to meet, and in about ten minutes, I will come back to let you know what's happening. Thank you all for participating!" And at that, she marched over to the other five players, who stood there looking sleepy but elegant in their dark green and gold robes.

Ginny's heart was pounding anxiously. She looked around nervously for Draco, who slid in beside her. Friends and family members of the other people around her were joining the crowd, hugging and encouraging each other, swearing that they, out of everyone, were the best. She glanced at Draco, who raised his eyebrows at her.

"Why on Earth would you do this for me, Draco?" were the first words out of her mouth.

He smirked. "It's a good chance for you," he said with a shrug.

Her hands were white as they twisted with anxiety on her lap. "I can't believe you," she said furiously. "Ugh. I'll never forgive you for putting me through this."

"Isn't it what you wanted?" he questioned, his expression amused.

"Well… I don't know," she sighed, running her shaking fingers through her long, windswept hair as she let out a breath of fear. "This is just… so sudden!"

Draco sneered, one of his hands subtly moving to caress her knee. She closed her eyes, feeling all her fear escape her as his rough hand slid up her thigh, driving her mad with want. She groped for his hand, and clasped it where it was, stopping its way up to her hip. "Draco," she breathed. "Not here… not now…"

But her fingers were running themselves over the back of his hand, taking in the feel of his skin longingly. He shifted his hand under hers, and their palms were pressed together, embracing each other. She let her eyes stay shut, enjoying this sweet sensation. His fingers laced with hers, and squeezed gently. The tenderness with which he did this made her open her eyes and look at him. His face was impassive, staring out over the Quidditch field stubbornly, but his lips appeared to shake as he pressed them determinedly together, and she couldn't help smiling at how difficult this affectionate gesture of holding hands seemed to be for him.

Just as her heart leapt with strange emotion for Draco, Gwenog Jones appeared before the cluster of anxious witches again, clapping her hands for their attention. "Okay, this is how it's going to go: I am going to call a list of names, and if you hear your name called, I want you to come over here and stand with the rest of the team."

Ginny gulped, and clutched Draco's hand tightly for support. He smirked beside her.

"Okay." She cleared her throat, and Ginny held her breath, waiting for… "Ginny Weasley." It was the first name called. She let go of Draco's palm with a terrified yelp. He yanked her to her feet, chuckling amusedly at her, and shoved her toward the Holyhead Harpies' team captain. Ginny was far too shocked to hear any of the other names called, but she was soon joined by at least five other shocked looking witches. "Thank you all," Gwenog Jones addressed the remaining group of witches in the stands. "If you did not hear your name, you may leave. You all did very well."

The witches who had not been called all looked anywhere from disappointed to furious. Ginny and the other witches whose names had been listed were all clearly excited. "You lot," said Gwenog, "have had your names called because we want to see more of you. We are going to ask the six of you to split into two groups of three, and one group at a time is going to work together to let each of you score once. Our own two Chasers and I are going to attempt to block you. So please, split into two groups of three… thank you." Ginny moved closer to two other women, both of whom looked several years older than her. Feeling intimidated, she mounted her borrowed broom, and took off when Gwenog blew her whistle.

Concentrating, Ginny caught the Quaffle passed to her by the oldest of their group. She passed it to the third witch, who sped forward, but was blocked by one of the Holyhead Harpies' Chasers. She swerved drastically to avoid her, and dropped the ball, but Ginny sped beneath her and caught it, throwing it up high for the first to get it back. She did, and scored. Ginny nearly cheered, before remembering that this was not a game, and that she was, in fact, competing with these women.

They began again, and as the Quaffle was passed to her, she sped toward the goal posts, making two fantastic dodges to avoid the opposing Chasers in her way. She passed it to the witch who had not yet scored to let her try, but she dropped it again, perhaps out of nerves, and Ginny had to take it back. She was unable to again fool the Keeper, but managed to throw the Quaffle on a curve so that it just narrowly avoided the Keeper's hands as she stretched them out to stop it. Her heart was drumming furiously against her ribs, but she was glad it was over. The third time around, they had to let the last woman score, but she missed badly, and the Quaffle flew right over the goal posts when she threw it overenthusiastically.

Ginny couldn't help noticing that Gwenog Jones was giving her approving looks as she landed, and she blushed madly, running back to Draco. Draco was nodding subtly at her, his mouth twisted slightly in a restrained smile that betrayed how impressed he was of her flying ability.

"Did I do alright?" she asked him in a hurry, paying no mind to the next three competitors.

"You were… adequate," he drawled, sneering.

She took this as a compliment, smacking him playfully on the shoulder as she turned back to watch the last two score. When they had landed, Ginny hurried back to the other five, who were clustering around the captain again. Gwenog Jones was glaring impressively at all of them. "You have all done well," she said flatly, "but as I said before, this is a very selective team." She turned directly to Ginny, who saw a gleam of hope in her life at last as Gwenog smiled. She held her breath. "Miss Weasley," the woman said kindly, "welcome to the Holyhead Harpies."

Something felt like it had exploded inside of her. It was all she could do not to jump up and down on the spot and scream with excitement. She could not believe it! It was unreal!

The other five witches were giving her dirty looks, but she barely noticed. "Th—Thank you!" she stuttered gratefully. "I mean… wow! Thank you!"

"There are robes for you in the locker rooms there," Gwenog stated, pointing her wand toward them. Giving her wand a little flick, she said, "They'll fit you now, and they've got your name on them already. You will need to get yourself a broom, though.

"Thank you… thank you so much!" Ginny spluttered, unable to express her gratitude fully. Gwenog Jones pulled a contract out of thin air, and thrust it in Ginny's face. "If you accept to joining the team, sign here," she said, pointing at a blank line near the bottom. She conjured Ginny a quill and ink, and once it had been signed, she stated, "Practice for the upcoming season begins on August 30th. I'm sure it will be a pleasure to work with you, Miss Weasley." She shook her hand, and turned her back on her, walking back to her team while Ginny made her way in the opposite direction to the locker rooms.

Draco joined her at her side, following her. "Congratulations," he stated lazily, smirking at her.

Her shocked grin had not faded from her face, but it widened as she looked at him. "So this was your birthday present for me? You've signed me onto the Holyhead Harpies? You must be crazy."

"Maybe so," he sneered in agreement, "but don't tell me you aren't glad I did it."

"Glad?" she asked incredulously as they stopped at the door to the locker rooms. "I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you quite enough."

He leaned forward, pressing her to the door. She glanced cautiously around, but the team was gone. No one was around. They were all alone. She looked back up at him, her eyes shining with appreciation and desire. He chuckled. "Maybe you should get started on it, then," he whispered suggestively. She giggled as he kissed her. She did not let their mouths separate as she reached behind her to open the door to the locker rooms, and they fell inside clumsily as it swung open. He shut it behind them before throwing her gruffly to the cold floor. She grunted as she fell, but that was silenced by his mouth as he immediately clambered atop her, forcing her to stay down.

Draco let out a groan as he tore her shirt from her already quivering body, and his hands found her heaving breasts. "Draco," she sighed against his tongue, and as she said his name, she felt him harden against her thigh.

"Say it again," he moaned. His teeth scraped her bottom lip as he pulled away from her slightly. His body emanated lust as he pulsed around her, trembling with need.

"_Make me_," she hissed with a giggle. He kissed her again, but as her tongue strayed into his mouth, he bit it lightly, holding her there against his lips. She squealed, and he finally let go, but his teeth moved then to her neck, where they bit into her dangerously deep, threatening punctures. It stung. "No," she breathed, "stop," and to her surprise, he did. He pulled his head up to look her straight in the eyes, and she shivered beneath him at their fierce, lustful glare.

He was panting as he stared determinedly at her. "I'm sorry," he said in a low, hoarse whisper. "I don't mean to hurt you."

She moaned as his body pressed against hers. "Yes," she sighed. "Yes, you do." He looked curiously at her, looking almost offended, but she shook her head. "It's okay. I don't mind." She reached up, and took his face in her hands. Drawing him down to her, and pressing his forehead to her own, she whispered sweetly to him, "Hurt me."

His confused expression changed slowly into one of relief and feral want, and he growled suddenly, like a primal animal. She squealed as he bent his head and began to devour every inch of her chest. She was panting, egging him on as he reached down to unzip his pants and pull down her shorts. "Yes," she encouraged, "_please_."

"Say my name," he said again, not entering her yet.

"Draco… yes… _Draco_…" she moaned weakly in a high, strangled plea, and he penetrated her forcefully.

His thrusts were violent, and it felt like heaven possessing her as he slammed his body against hers. She thought her ribs might crack, and she could feel her hip bones bruising under his immense strength.

It was relief to have Draco inside of her, bliss to have him take her this way. The symphony of their moaning was sweet to her ears, and it heightened her pleasure simply to hear him groaning like that—excited by _her_, lustful for _her_, wanting _her_, of all people. She felt empowered to be able to bring out such a passionate beast from this cold, cruel wizard.

His hands on her hips were her undoing, and she screamed as he plunged into her again and again with amazing power. Sweat caked her entire body as she went mad with pleasure.

Her ecstasy seemed to have no finish as it built higher and higher, endlessly swelling inside of her so that her eyes rolled back in her head, and she ran out of breath from screaming. She was merely gasping every time he drove into her again, unable to let out a sound. She was light headed… so full… so whole and real and beautiful… feeling everything around her as though it were magnified a hundred times…

And then she broke. Relieving pleasure washed over her like a wave of something so pure it could not have been natural, and she lay back limply on the floor, panting.

Several minutes passed as they caught their breaths, relaxing together. "You're crazy," was the first thing out of her mouth when she could speak.

He chuckled, his lips still tormenting her with gentle kisses on her neck and shoulder. "Am I?"

"Mm," she groaned, tangling a hand into his hair, pressing him closer to her as her body tensed as though to peak again. "Yessssss," she hissed.

Draco yanked himself away, chuckling still. "I'm only crazy because you make me that way."

"I don't make you crazy," she laughed, disbelieving.

He shrugged, and growled again as he leaned back in to taste her jaw. It was she who pushed him away this time. "Draco," she said sternly, looking him dead in the eye, "do I really make you crazy?"

"At the moment you are," he snarled, rolling his eyes.

"No, really," she said, trying to be as calm as possible as she tenderly stroked his face above hers. "What do I do to you?" It was the first time since he had admitted his slight jealousy for Harry that any feelings he had for her were being brought up, and he looked suddenly apprehensive.

He scrambled away from her, leaving her free to be touched again by the stuffy air of the locker room. She followed him to her feet, pulling her shorts back up her legs, and throwing her shirt back on. She watched Draco intently as he zipped up his pants and turned away from her. "Draco…?" she began cautiously, taking a step toward him, but he cut her off.

"Look," he said, changing the subject as he pointed. "Your uniform."

And there it was, draped from a hanger balanced on the knob of a locker. It was dark green, and an elaborate golden talon decorated the chest. She stared blankly at it, having almost forgotten about it. She reached out, and picked up the hanger, twirling it so they could admire the back. Her last name was sewn there in shining gold thread, and she couldn't resist running her fingers over the letters, awe-struck.

She swallowed, taking it all in. What was she going to tell Harry? She chuckled at his expression. "Harry is going to be so confused by all this," she laughed, staring fondly at her new Quidditch robes.

"What are you going to tell him about today?" Draco spat bitterly.

"I don't know," she sighed, noting the irritation with which Draco spoke of Harry, and feeling slightly smug about it. "I told him that after work I'd be going shopping with Luna, but maybe I'll just tell him that I actually just went to this thing instead. I mean, I made the team, so he wouldn't be too upset, would he, d'you think?"

Draco shrugged irritably. Ginny smirked, loving his reactions. "So, how's your fiancée?" she asked purposefully. Her goal was achieved when his face turned sickly pale, and he suddenly looked frozen and angry.

"She's… unimportant," he hissed.

Ginny sighed, and placed the hanger back on the locker. She moved toward Draco from behind, sliding her fingers into his hair and letting her chest press warmly into his back. "Why do you let your father push you around so much?" she breathed comfortably. She felt him shrug against her. "Are you afraid of him?" There was no answer. "If you're afraid of him, why do you revere him so much?" Again, no answer came. "Why won't you speak to me, Draco?"

As if his name set him off, he spun on the spot to shake her off of him, and backed away from her. "Why won't you just leave me alone about things that do not concern you, Weasley?" he shouted, his voice reverberating through the empty locker rooms.

"Oh, I'm sorry, _Malfoy_, if I thought we had some sort of connection, but the way you are, I can never know! You're like two different people!" She threw her hands up in frustration, glaring at him as she yelled.

"You stupid bitch; we have no connection. There is _nothing_ between us! We convenience each other, but there is _nothing between us_!" He looked so dangerous with his hair mussed and his eyes ablaze with unfathomable fury that she felt her breath catch. She could not deny that her heart sunk to hear these words. Was _she_ having feelings for _him_ as well? No. She couldn't.

But her heart was pounding with sorrow as he told her, "You're _nothing_ to me, _Weasley_," and she felt unshed tears stinging behind her eye sockets. Her body's reactions to him contradicted all she knew in her head. Her body reacted as though she liked him, no matter how loudly her mind screamed that she never could.

"Why, then?" she croaked, trying with all her might not to burst into tears of despair. That she was feeling despair from his words was strange enough, but what made it stranger was her need to know why… her need to know the truth behind his actions. "Why did you do this for me today, then?"

"BECAUSE," he shouted, his voice strained. "Because…" And for the first time, his deep, grey eyes shone wet with tears. They made his whites go bloodshot, and they clung to his eyelashes as he tried to blink them away. Just watching this process of Draco Malfoy starting to cry provoked tears from her own eyes, and they began to spill shamelessly as he tangled his hands in his hair like a madman, and shook his head in protest. He took a deep, steadying breath. It seemed like forever before he could speak again, and when he did, it was with surprising calm. "Because you deserve it," he whispered, and she nearly felt her heart splitting along an invisible seam from how sad he sounded. "Because you've made me think, and made me feel, and you deserve something you really want."

She gave a soft breath of laughter. "And yet," she squeaked through suppressed sobs, "I am nothing to you."

He nodded. It looked painful, as though his neck was stiff. "You have to be," he sighed, avoiding her gaze.

"But _why_?" she sobbed desperately. She hadn't meant to say it. She didn't actually want to know why. She didn't mean to sound like she wanted to mean something to him, but her strangled plea of had certainly betrayed a feeling like that. She buried her face in her hands, leaning back against a locker as the sobs thundered heavily through her like a poison that she could not stop. She wanted to be held lovingly, to be kissed, to be loved eternally by a single person, and not have her emotions torn this way between Harry and Draco. She wanted to have a simple life, a good life, not have feelings for the man she knew she loved as well as the man she knew should be her enemy. It was too confusing… too complicated… and she just wanted it to stop.

If Draco had answered her, she did not hear him. Without warning, her frustration burst, and she flung herself at him, her small but powerful fists slamming into Draco's muscular chest. "I HATE YOU," she screamed. "I HATE YOU, I _HATE _YOU, _I HATE YOU_!" She did not care, at that moment, quite how pitiful she looked, nor did she care how reminiscent she was to a small child having a wild tantrum, for her confusion had possessed her, and she was raging. "EVERYTHING," she screeched madly, "IS _YOUR FAULT_! I _HATE_ YOU!"

He did not stop her. He did not protest or move away as she punched him, but nor did he attempt to assuage her fury. "I know," he sighed, but she did not hear him as continued to sob noisily at him.

"I hate you," she continued to cry, her punches eventually dying down so that she merely smacked his chest weakly with tired hands. Her fingertips dug into his shirt, and clung there helplessly, her tear-stained face nestled urgently against him. Her knees gave way, and she pulled him with her to the floor as her crying eased slightly, and for a while she just sniffled against his chest as they huddled near the ground.

It was nearly ten minutes that passed before she was calmer again. She did not let go of Draco, nor did she move at all as she clung to him. She liked too much the feel of his large, strong body beside hers, letting her be weak, not trying to heal her, and just letting her cry. She loved it… loved the feeling that he could dominate her, control her, and hurt her, but still protect her, be strong for her, even maybe love her…

She whined at this thought. She hated herself for thinking it.

"You're right," he said suddenly, and she glanced up at him. His face was wet, and his cold eyes were very red, and full of sadness and regret. "It is my fault. If I'd just had the guts to stop this before we actually…" His eyes squeezed shut as though to shield himself from his own memories.

"Before we what?" she asked quietly. "Before we had sex? Or before…" she took a deep breath. "Before we started having… feelings for each other?"

"I _can't have_ feelings for you, Weasley, don't you get it?" he cried, leaning his forehead in his hands despairingly. "For both of our sakes."

"What would a relationship with me really do for you, though?" she asked with a hollow, unfeeling laugh that sounded cruelly accusatory, even to her own ears. "You don't even love your fiancée!"

"My father," he croaked. "He would _kill_ me."

"Again, with your father," she sighed, his fingers roaming down his chest to caress his stomach. "You have to stop worrying about him."

"You don't know him," he warned.

"Oh, _don't_ I?" She looked suddenly wild. "He's the bastard who planted You-Know-Who's diary with me in my first year! I was only eleven, but did he care? No, because to him, I was just a silly little blood-traitor who wasn't even worth living, wasn't I? He's horrible, which is why you shouldn't have to care about his opinion!"

"But that is exactly my _point_!" Draco hissed, giving an involuntary shudder as Ginny's hands traveled over his body. "He _is_ horrible, like you said. He's vindictive as hell, he's merciless, and violent, and…" He stopped, and swallowed, shaking his head.

Ginny reached up to caress his face soothingly, and he opened his eyes, looking at her strangely. "But either way," he said quietly, "I can't have feelings for you, because you and Saint _Potter_ have each other." Tears formed in his shining, silvery eyes again as he gazed into her dark brown ones. "And I'll always just be convenient."

"Then so will I, I suppose," she whispered in a cracked voice. She gave him an agonizingly heartbreaking smile as she stared tenderly at him, realizing gloomily as she did so just how deeply she actually did possess unwanted feelings for the one and only Draco Malfoy.

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**A/N:** REVIEW, MY FRIENDS!! THANKS FOR READING!! 


	13. Insatiable, Turning Blue

**A/N:** This chapter was soooooo much fun. I reeeeeally wanted to have both some erotic fun AND a lot of drama, and I feel like it actually worked out nicely here, which is rare for me to feel. I had so much fun with two and a half pages of this being devoted entirely to their sex and foreplay. Good god, it was delicious. I was all out of breath writing it. -.- You see, this is why I need a boyfriend, because I have no way of getting out my sexual frustration except through silly fics like this. My goodness, I'm ridiculous. Anyway, have fun! Enjoy the chapter, and thanks for reading!!!!

BTW, the next chapter is already in the process of being written, so don't worry! The next update will probably be as quick as this one!

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Harry had been ecstatic when Ginny told him, next morning, about where she had really gone—though she did, of course, leave Draco out of the story, making it sound like she just happened to know where and when tryouts for a professional Quidditch team were being held. At first he expressed slight disappointment that Ginny had felt the need to lie to him about where she was going, but upon hearing that she was officially signed on with the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team, he showed pure joy. He had taken her up in his arms, spinning her around happily as he kissed her, but she could only give an awkward laugh, and slink away, saying she had to go to work early. She felt uncomfortable around Harry, who she envied for being so happily ignorant to what she was doing behind his back. She left the house before Harry did, which was a rare occurrence on its own, and gave him no explanation as to why. 

In all honesty, she didn't need to go to George's shop early, but simply wanted to get away from Harry. She had realized at last, and somewhat accepted, that she was harboring feelings for Draco inside of her, as sick as it was, and this made being around Harry so much harder. Guilt flared up within her when she was near him, for Draco was always on her mind now. She had begun to ache with the desire to have a relationship—a real one—with Draco, and she fantasized about it. In these fantasies, Harry was no where to be found, and this terrified her. What had Draco done to her?

"George," she called, entering the shop. "George?"

"Blimey, Gin, you're here early," he responded with a yawn, appearing from the back room. He rubbed his eyes sleepily as he looked at her. "What's up?"

"I, uh…" she stuttered. "I've been signed onto the Holyhead Harpies."

"You're kidding?" he gasped, his eyes wide. His shocked expression became an enormous grin when she shook her head, and he approached her with his arms wide. "Congratulations, Ginny!" he cried, giving her an affectionate hug. She giggled, and hugged him back. "Wow! When did this happen?"

"Just yesterday," she said, smiling.

"Wow!" George said again. He gazed off wistfully into space. "I never would have thought… my baby sister…" He grinned. "Quidditch is a brutal game, Gin! You sure you can handle it?"

She glared at him. "I was a Gryffindor Chaser set against the Slytherins," she reminded him. "They were vicious, and I still beat them, didn't I?"

"That's right. Fred and I always said you had more power than people gave you credit for."

"Thank you?" she laughed uncertainly.

"Yeah," he sighed, one arm around her shoulders. "I wish I could have been at Hogwarts when you were on the team. You must have been brilliant."

Ginny blushed. "I wasn't _that_ good."

"Well, in your fourth year, you were a damned good Seeker… I remember you sure gave that Draco Malfoy character a good run for his overload of money," he chucked. Her heart sank. Her breath had failed her. She couldn't say anything in response to this, but merely gulp, and give a tiny squeak. "Aha," George continued, not recognizing the true meaning of her indistinct sound, "so you must admit you're pretty good! Although, admittedly, Malfoy was never a particularly good Seeker, anyway. D'you remember back in your first year when he didn't notice that the snitch was hovering like right behind his head? That was hilarious. Harry caught it even with a broken arm!"

She shrugged, and croaked, "I don't really remember."

"Oh, yeah, well that was the year that you… well…" He cleared his throat. It was an odd thing, but Ginny and her family never really discussed the incident that she and Draco had gone over so many times in such depth. Were they afraid of her for it? They didn't understand, but she had the feeling Ron was more understanding about it than the rest. Harry certainly understood…. Draco understood, too.

Her head pounded as the comparison pulsed around in her skull torturously.

"Mm hmm," she mumbled.

"So, anyway, is that all that brought you here so early, or are you here to quit?"

"What?" she snapped. "Quit?"

"Yeah! I mean, you're officially a professional Quidditch player, now! Why would you still need a job in my little shop, eh?"

She smiled. "Oh, George," she sighed, hugging him. "I love you."

"And I'll always think of you only as my sister, Ginny, sorry," he said jokingly, and she hit him playfully as he laughed. "But, really, are you going to quit, or what?"

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, I think so, George. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry! You've got a new and better job, and you're getting married in two days!"

She gulped. "Yeah," she choked, remembering it with a chill. "Two more days."

"Why d'you look so sad, Ginny?"

"I don't. It's nothing, George."

He glared at her. "Okay," he said hesitantly.

"Well, thanks," she sighed, turning to leave. "Oh, but, um…" She swallowed. "Don't tell Harry I quit, okay?"

With Harry still thinking she worked there, she had an excuse to leave the house every day and see Draco. She felt like a criminal, but that feeling was gone once she was back in Draco's arms.

"So, how did Potter react?" Draco sneered at her when they met again in the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

She shrugged. "I don't know," she muttered. "He was happy, I guess."

"Was he?" he hissed. "Well goodie for him."

They were silent for several moments, before what she had knew she had to say for the longest time came spilling from her without her consent: "I'm getting married in two days, Draco." He merely looked at her expressionlessly. "I really don't want to keep doing this once I'm married."

"Married," he said bitterly, spitting at the word. "You're only eighteen."

"I know," she whispered blinking in the sunlight as she looked up at him and into his fierce eyes. "But…" She had meant to say she loved him, but it didn't come out.

"…You love him," Draco finished for her.

"Yes," she said quietly, her heart breaking. Being with Draco made it so hard to love Harry, but she wanted both. She was greedy, but she couldn't help it: She wanted—no, she _needed_ them both. They sustained her… both of them.

She couldn't place her finger on what exactly she was feeling for Draco, but it was strong, throbbing powerfully inside her, pulsing through her entire body like a drug. "But you…" She didn't know what she was saying, so she didn't finish, simply allowing the words to linger in the air between them like an unfinished confession. What did she have to confess? That she felt for Draco? Yes. But what did she feel for him? She didn't know. Confusion made her crazy. For the second time in two days, she felt tears welling at her eyes, but she blinked them back. "Just hold me, Draco," she breathed, falling into his grasp. To her surprise, his hands were gentle as they lifted her, cradling her tenderly like a child.

"No one's home, today," he whispered in her ear as he held her, and disapparated. His hands were the only things she could feel in the pressing darkness, and when she could at last breathe again, he did not set her down. He held her close, like Fleur had held Victoire, and carried her forward into the Malfoy Manor.

"Not here," she groaned, struggling in his arms, but he soothed her with a kiss.

"No one's in there today. My mother and father are out."

"What about your fiancée?"

He tensed around her, placing her on the ground again once they crossed the threshold. "She's not here, either. She's not here very much, anyway. She doesn't matter…" He ended on a growl, grabbing her in his arms again and pressing her against the wall.

Ginny let out a moan as he ground himself against her, tormenting her with the feeling. "_You_ matter, now," he snarled huskily into her neck, and slid his fingers down her body. They snuck beneath her shirt, tantalized every inch of her skin that they caressed as they lifted the fabric from her, and pulled it over her head. Her skirt had been torn from her before she even realized it, and her undergarments were gone all too soon, as well. She was already begging, at this point, for him to give her the release she wanted.

"Oh, Draco," she was sighing, her hands embracing his face and hair. "Yes, please…_now_…"

"No," he sniggered, stepping away from her. She panted, free from his grasp now, clutching the wall behind her for support as she felt winded.

She glared at him. "_What_?" she snapped. "Why not?"

He grinned evilly. He began, then, to unbutton his own shirt—slowly… agonizingly slowly… his fingers taking their time with every button. She watched, hypnotized as every clasp came undone. She was breathless to watch the action, as though it were something tremendously erotic. The place between her legs grew wet as more and more skin was revealed, even if it was only a thin sliver of his delicious chest. He reached the last button, and he stopped there… smirking at her as she let out an involuntary groan of frustrated desire, staring fixedly on that last button as though to glare at it might make it open. She bent slightly, crossing her legs, looking ridiculously like someone who desperately needed a bathroom. Lust was overpowering her, making her breathing fast, shallow, rough and difficult. Watching her obvious reactions smugly, he finally undid the last button on his shirt, and slid it elegantly from his own shoulders in a horribly slow, teasing manner.

The effect was immediate. She felt under some sort of spell as the material crumpled gracefully in slow-motion to a heap around his feet. She felt powerless, and suddenly fell weakly to her knees. He chuckled, taking slow steps toward her, his hands sneaking down to the waistband of his jeans. Stopping just above her, his fingers rested suggestively upon the button that held them to his legs, and she looked up at him. She could see the scar—the Dark Mark shining grotesquely on his forearm, and she shivered, cowering beneath his imposing form. She saw Draco, then, as though through in an erotic light as he stared down at her, his grey eyes twinkling perfectly at her and dancing with primal lust. His beautiful, naked chest was heaving with breaths of need and want.

Ginny groaned, soaked with desire now. He chuckled cruelly again, and undid that single button. The zipper came down, next, and it took far too much time in her mind as she watched it slide to an open state over the obvious erection there. She sighed, staring as his underpants and jeans dropped slowly together, bunching at his ankles. He kicked them away, leaving himself completely naked, and she thought she might actually peak right then and there. Her mouth was open in a perfect 'O' as she struggled to draw breath. She had never been so close to this part of him before… she had never thought about it in this kind of erotic way, nor felt this sudden urge to make it hers…

And in that instant, her mouth was upon him. Draco was moaning already, his hands on the wall behind her to steady himself. She looked up at him. His eyes were closed, and his lips were parted as he panted. His entire body was rocking back and forth, pushing himself further between her lips, deeper toward the back of her mouth, nudging her throat. She felt so full of him, and it was beautiful. She worked him slowly into a deep sweat, knowing she was torturing him with her slow motions. Feeling the heat radiating from his body onto hers was driving her wild, making her wetter. She was starting to feel her own sweat gathering in beads all over her body, simply from tasting Draco Malfoy in this torturously intimate and erotic way.

One of his hands moved to the top of her head as his hips gave a violent jerk, slamming her head into the wall behind her. She could suddenly feel him tensing up, hear him moaning between clenched teeth above her, and that was when she let go. He groaned in frustration, but there was understanding in his eyes as he stared down at her with a lustful smile joining the rest of his handsome features. He pulled back, and knelt slowly beside her. She panted, her hot breath hitting his face and blowing a few of his white-blonde strands out of his eyes. His hands slipped beneath her arms and around her waist, and he was suddenly pulling her to her feet. Her legs were aching, and now squirming with the need for him to take her. This was torture, she decided, as his silvery eyes met hers. She squealed, staring intently at him.

"_Please_… _Draco_," she panted breathlessly, but he shook his head, his smile wicked. He reached his arms down, and placed his hands beneath her legs, lifting her up. Her legs were placed upon his shoulders so that his head was between her thighs.

This was bliss, she realized, as his mouth enveloped her; this was _ecstasy_! Her entire body heaved against him, so high in the air, and her legs folded themselves around his head, drawing him in further. She tangled her fingers in his blonde mess, and forced him further at her, her moans echoing loudly in the large, empty hallway. "Oh… God… _Draco_…" she sighed, each word escaping as a tiny, passionate exhale, for breathing felt impossible. She was near the edge of perfection… elated… expanding with overwhelming euphoria…

And he let her down. "No," she squealed. "_Please_!"

He kept her pinned against the wall, and she could feel him pressing on her entrance, teasing her with how close he was…

"Tell me you want me, Ginny," he hissed.

"Unh… I want you!" she cried.

"Call me by my name."

"I want you, Draco!"

His mouth found her neck, and he sucked upon her flesh, bruising her, marking her. She rolled her hips toward him, trying to at last get her release, but he didn't let her. He pulled away from her neck, staring directly into her watery eyes as his hands traveled down her body. His fingers were touching her most sensitive areas while still his hardness pressed there, torturing her. "Tell me…" he panted, "…that you're mine."

"I…" She stopped. Her eyes were wide. "But..."

"Say it!"

"But… Harry…!" she cried desperately as though to explain her hesitation, but at the sound of her fiancé's name, Draco pressed two of his fingers expertly inside of her, making a point to be rough so that it hurt.

She yelped at the vicious contact, and he bared his teeth warningly. "_Don't say that name_," he hissed. "You are _mine_."

"I'm…"

"You're mine… always _mine_…"

"_YOURS_!" she screamed desperately as he extracted the fingers. She dug her nails into his shoulders, and at that, he thrust inside her. He pumped ferociously into her, again and again, harder and harder, making her hips grow sore. Her fingers raved anxiously through his hair, her eyes shut so tightly that bright lights burst behind her closed eyelids. The pleasure was so intense it was unreal, like becoming a god, worshiped by Draco's rough hands. She was moaning violently against him, even as their mouths fused. Their moans reverberated into each other's bodies. She could taste her own pleasure from his tongue, and it drove her wild. "Oh, Draco," she whimpered delightedly, as the pleasure grew… filling every inch of her… infecting her very blood… pulsing through her veins with every brutal slam of his body into hers. When she peaked, it was like her heart had caught fire, and she screamed into his mouth as he groaned, releasing within her shaking, sweating body.

Contentment settled over them like a thick blanket, warm and comforting. Their relieved sighs were in tune as he let her back to the floor, but her limbs were weak. She could not stand, and the moment he let go of her, she fell forward into his arms again, her legs so feeble now that they would not support her weight. He caught her in his strong arms, and she groaned comfortably to feel him holding her so gently.

"Draco," she sighed to him as he embraced her. Her mind was spinning. She forgot about Harry, and there was only Draco. Only she and Draco mattered, then.

"I'm sorry," he breathed into her hair, stroking her. Confusion swept over her at these words, but she was suddenly being lifted into the air again like a child, and he was carrying her deeper into the manor.

She let her fingertips touch his chest lightly, and she saw him close his eyes as though to calm himself. "Why are you sorry, Draco?" she asked as he placed her on an elaborate, velvet couch. She felt like she was tainting it by lying there, but she hadn't the strength to leave it. She laid her head back, and stared at him as he sat beside her.

He took a breath. "I'm sorry I made you say that you were…"

"…yours?" she finished for him. He nodded. "Liar," she hissed, sounding suddenly vicious, even as she lay there so weak and helpless beside him. "You're not sorry. You do wish I was yours, don't you?" He looked anguished.

"I do," he croaked, turning away from her.

"Why?" she asked breathlessly, emotions overwhelming her.

He shook his head, and stood, wandering back into the hall they had just left. He returned moments later with their clothing. Throwing the bundle of her clothes to her, he began to dress, and she felt rejected. She slipped her skirt back up over her legs, and buttoned her shirt. She was still hot and sweating from the passionate encounter, and she felt far too dressed when she was wearing everything again. He sat beside her on the couch again, his elbows on his knees, and his fingers twisting nervously together. "What's wrong with you, Draco?" she inquired concernedly.

"Potter," he hissed, not looking at her.

"_Harry_?" she asked incredulously with a hollow laugh. "Harry is what's wrong with you? What, has he possessed you, or something?"

"No," he growled. "It's you that's possessed me. He's just in my way."

Ginny fell silent, and her heart was racing. Was her blood really on fire like that, or was it all in her head? She couldn't tell. "I'm going to be married in two days," she sighed. "And we'll have to give this up once I am. Is that what you mean by being in your way?"

He finally turned to her, and she noticed that his grey eyes were dark and stormy with rage as he spat, "You're only eighteen! How can you already be getting married?"

"You're one to talk," she countered, crossing her arms defiantly. "You're only nineteen, and you're getting married, too."

"But I don't have to!" he cried. He looked utterly mad as he snatched up her wrists, wringing her hands desperately. "I don't love her! You said it yourself: I shouldn't marry someone that I don't love! I can't do it, Ginny! I can't marry her!"

"What are you—?" Her heart was thundering through her entire body, electrocuting her blood and crumbling all her bones, she was sure of it.

"_Ginny_…" he pleaded. "Do you _really_ want to marry Potter in _two days_ from now? Look at where you are, Ginny! You're in _my manor_! If you really wanted to be with him, don't you think you'd be having _him_ fuck you right now, not me?"

"I—I love him!" she squealed, intimidated to no end by Draco's fiercely penetrating stare, and his painfully firm grasp he held around her wrists. At these words, he thrust her hands back at her angrily, and threw up his own in frustration. He swept to the door, and leaned against its frame, his back to her. She could tell he was breathing deeply from the way his shoulders were heaving. His head was down, and he held himself in such an uncharacteristically solemn way that it hurt to watch him. She looked down at her feet.

When she heard him speak, it was like from a distance, or like her ears were clogged. She was too wrapped up in her own dazed head to hear him properly. "So, I suppose your wedding is all set to go, then?"

"Yes," she sniffed sadly, her bottom lip trembling. She could feel her heart breaking, and she didn't understand why. "Hermione helped me get a dress last week, and the ceremony itself is being held in my parents' back yard, where my brother's wedding was held, too. The decorations are almost all finished, and my mum is making all the food. Hermione's my maid of honor, and Ron is Harry's best man." She didn't know why she was telling him all this. She could see his knuckles whitening as his grip on the doorframe tightened. "So… it's just about all ready to go."

"Well, congratulations," he spat.

The words 'Thank you' were lost in her throat, and she could only squeak.

She heard him take a deep breath, and as he turned back to her, she saw that his face was surprisingly placid, his eyes cold, and his smile arrogant and smug as he said, sneering, "So, am I invited?" He sounded like himself again: cold, irritating, and self-absorbed.

"No," she sighed, but he shrugged, smiling lazily at her.

"Oh well. I suppose that's all for the best, isn't it?" His eyes softened, but his expression remained unyielding.

"I suppose," she agreed sadly, her voice cracking with sorrow.

They were silent for several minutes, but it was not awkward. It was comfortable, in a heart-wrenching sort of way, as the reality of their unprecedented relationship sunk in. She felt her heart expanding for Draco, swelling with the growing feelings inside of it. Her feelings for him felt so real at that moment, like something solid inside of her, rooted in her heart, intensifying with every painful beat. "I'll miss you," she confessed. It was true, but she hadn't realized it until she said it, and now that she did, it hurt to think of a time in the near future that did not have Draco in it. He had accidentally become such a huge part of her life; he was a part of her mind, her heart, her body, her soul…

As tears started to form again, she sniffed, and shook her head determinedly. "I should…"

"…Go," he completed her sentence for her. "Yeah."

She nodded.

With a violent pain stabbing her in her heart, she swept right passed him where he stood in the doorway. She walked quickly down the hallway to the front door, but with her pale, shaking hand on the knob, she paused. She looked back at him. He was staring after her, his eyes clouded with agony, and his mouth pressed into a stubbornly arrogant smile. The corners of her lips twitched in a horrid attempt to smile back at him, but it hurt too badly, so she didn't bother. She could only shake his head at him, and he nodded silently at her in response, understanding. With a shuddering sob, she yanked open the door, and sprinted from the manor before she lost the heart to do so.

Ginny was already weeping by the time she disapparated from the Malfoy's garden.

* * *

**A/N:** Waaaah. Dramaaaaaaaa. PLEASE REVIEW, MY DARLING READERS!! THANK YOOOU!! YOU'RE LOVED!! 


	14. A Case Of You, Charge

**A/N:** Oh boy. Here is a chapter without sex, but oh my...this chapter and beyond... let me just warn you about eh INCREDIBLE amount of ANGST you are about to encounter upon reading this and the following chapters. Tut tut, oh well, if you're still here, I applaud you for your ability to sit through angst. I certainly can't do it easily with out freaking out.

Well, ENJOY!!!

* * *

"Hermione," Ginny cried. Her small fists began to hurt as they slammed repeatedly into the door to the flat she and Ron shared. "Hermione!" Was she not home? How could she not be home? She had spent yesterday afternoon and evening alone at Grimmauld Place, crying, before Harry had come home, and she'd had to pull herself together. Today, when Harry had left for Auror training, she decided on a painful whim to come here, to Hermione's flat, as opposed to meeting with Draco today. She knocked again and again, but no answer came from within. In desperation, she pounded again on the door. "Hermione, are you there?"

A crash sounded from within, and hushed voices were buzzing rapidly. "Hermione?" she called again, starting to get worried. She heard a tiny scream. "Hermione!" Ginny slammed her side into the door desperately, suddenly terrified. Paranoia possessed her, and she started throwing herself at the entrance. "_Hermione_!"

The door opened, suddenly, and Ginny flew through it, falling against someone slightly taller than her. A bush of brown hair fell in her eyes, and, spluttering, she looked up. "Hermione!" she squeaked. "I'm sorry, I thought… are you okay?"

She looked flushed. Her face was faintly pink, and she was fidgeting, looking restless. "I'm fine, Ginny," she said hurriedly, "I just…" But Ginny was already taking in Hermione's thin bathrobe, and noticing how it looked suspiciously like she was wearing nothing under it.

"Oh, Hermione, I… I'm sorry! Was I interrupting…?"

"No, really," she said distractedly. "Nothing was happen—"

"Yes, you bloody well are interrupting!" came Ron's irritated voice from a back room. "Go away, Ginny!"

Hermione's face shone scarlet, and Ginny's matched hers as she giggled, and looked away awkwardly. "Oh, Hermione," she sighed, "I'm so sorry!"

"It's really alright, Ginny," she laughed, still violently red. "You sounded really frantic at the door, otherwise I wouldn't have left him." She made a face. "He's just being clingy because it's his day off and he's a needy little git. Come in, though! You look terrible: like you've been beat up, or something. Are _you_ okay?"

"Tell her to go the hell away!" Ron was shouting.

"Oh, shut _up_, Ron!" Hermione shouted back irritably. "I'll finish with you later!"

"God, I'm… I'm really sorry, Hermione," Ginny squeaked embarrassedly as she stepped over the threshold. "I really didn't mean to…"

"Don't be silly!" Hermione assured her quickly, cutting her off. "Now, what's up?" She gestured to a worn looking couch, and Ginny sat. Hermione sat next to her, clutching her rather revealing robe closely around her. Ginny could help blushing to notice this.

She swallowed, not entirely sure of where to begin. She didn't know why she was trusting Hermione. The woman was Harry's best friend, but she also felt like the only person Ginny could trust with anything. Luna was trustworthy, but her opinions were always a little warped. So she tried to begin with, "Uh… well… it's about…um… well, Harry and I are…" Nothing was coming out right. It felt like everything she said was going to sound terrible, and not in Harry's favor, but she didn't know how to phrase it.

"You and Harry?" Hermione questioned, her light eyes sparkling as though they knew already. "Is this about the wedding?"

Ginny nodded. "I love Harry," she decided was a good way to start. "I love him so much, but recently…"

"You've been having doubts?"

"Yes," Ginny said breathlessly, her hands twisting anxiously in her lap. "And I hate it. I just… I don't know if… marrying Harry so early is such a good idea." It spilled from her before she knew what she was saying, and it felt blunt and cruel once it had been said. She held her breath, watching Hermione's face soften as she gazed at her.

"Oh, Ginny," she sighed. "It's normal to get cold feet, I've heard."

"No," Ginny pressed. "You don't understand. I just don't know if the actual marriage was a really good idea at all! It's not just that I'm nervous, but I just… but I do love him! I've loved him for as long as I can remember, but… lately… things have gotten in the way." She hoped she was making sense.

"Well," Hermione said calmly, "I must admit, Ginny, that a better time to realize this would have been several weeks ago… not a day before the wedding."

"I know," Ginny moaned, putting her head in her hands. She hated this. It had been a terrible idea.

Just as she was contemplating leaving and telling Hermione to just forget it, she felt her hand comfortingly on her shoulder, and was reassured. She took a breath. "I know I love Harry," she whispered, "but I just can't really know anything for sure anymore. Things are so complicated, now."

"Why?" Hermione pressed.

She stayed silent, thinking. Should she tell Hermione about Draco? Should she tell her of the raging emotions for her enemy that she was storing inside of her? No. She couldn't. She shook her head, an involuntary squeak escaping her as the truth dangled frustratingly on the tip of her tongue, begging to come out. The silence between them was long and unbroken for several minutes except for the occasional impatient sounds of irritation Ron was emitting from the next room. Ginny's heart was hammering as she thought of actually confessing, actually telling Hermione everything: all the things Draco had done to her, all the things he was making her feel inside, and all the doubt he was provoking about her relationship with Harry. Quite suddenly, Hermione whispered, "Is there someone else?"

Ginny turned the question over in her head. There was someone else. There was Draco. This she would never admit. Her face must have betrayed something of her feelings, however, for Hermione sighed. "I won't tell Harry," she said quietly, her voice kind, sympathetic, and honest, "or Ron."

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Ginny gave a single, solemn nod as tears began to redden her eyes again. "Oh, Ginny," Hermione cooed, wrapping her arms lovingly around her. She was like the understanding big sister that Ginny had never had. She was raised among six brothers, and had always been treated like one of the boys by all her male siblings. They would never understand. She had no one but her mother, who she didn't think would be able to face the truth of her daughter's situation. Only Hermione would accept her.

"He," Ginny sobbed against Hermione's robe, "makes me doubt everything. I love Harry, but he makes it so hard to! He…" She sniffed. "…has become the only thing that makes sense anymore. I…" She was unable to go on. Her sobs were making her heave, and shake too violently to speak sensibly.

Hermione's arms were comforting. "Do you love him?" she asked, and it sounded like it hurt her to say the words. Ginny pulled away from her, gazing at Hermione with wide, watery eyes.

"Love him?" she cried incredulously. "_Love_ him? I _hate him_!"

"But you have feelings for him?"

Ginny sniffed violently as she nodded. "I find myself caring about him. I find myself always wanting to be with him, even while I'm with Harry…" Her voice broke. "It's terrible," she finished at a whisper. Her eyes were puffy and red with sorrow, but she didn't care as she stared at Hermione helplessly, hoping she could give her answers.

"And you _don't_ love him?" Hermione questioned her again.

"I…" she stuttered. "I… I don't… I _can't_…" She stood suddenly, horror flooding her as the possibility of this occurred to her so really and entirely that she felt nauseated. "I can't," she hissed. "You don't understand! You love Ron, don't you?"

She looked taken aback. "With all my heart!" she replied, her eyes soft but concerned.

"Well, how would you feel if someone you hated—someone you knew you were supposed to hate—came into your life out of absolutely no where and started being nice to you, seducing you, making you feel like you've never felt before, then started to question your relationship with Ron? Could you really love someone who'd question your love for Ron?"

Hermione's eyes were full of tears. "Love," she said sadly, her voice shaking, "can't be helped. It can sneak up on you even when you're the most prepared, and make you crazy. It's uncontrollable who you fall in love with, Ginny."

"BUT I'M SUPPOSED TO LOVE HARRY!" Ginny roared unwillingly, mad now with annoyance. "This is all wrong," she groaned, tangling her fingers in her hair. "You're not supposed to encourage me toward Dr—him… you're supposed to tell me to get _awa_y from him! To go back to Harry!"

"I'm not encouraging you either way!" Hermione cried desperately, standing again to be level with Ginny. "Harry is my _best friend_, but I'm encouraging you to stay with whoever you truly love!"

"What's going on in there? Why are you shouting?" Ron called irritably from the room in the back.

"SHUT UP, RON," Hermione yelled at him before turning back to Ginny with an expression of deepest compassion. "Ginny, look," she said quietly, "I don't know the details between you and this guy, but the way you talk about him…" She shook her head sympathetically. "Trust me," she sighed, "I know that there's a fine line between love and hate, but I'm not about to tell you how you feel. Only you can know if you really love this guy or not."

"But…" Ginny croaked, sobs threatening ominously to posses her again. "How am I supposed to know?"

Hermione sighed, hugging Ginny close to her again. "That I can't tell you," she said sadly. "You just… know, I guess."

"WHAT IS HAPPENING IN THERE?"

"SHUT _UP_, RON!" Hermione roared, letting go of Ginny to glare furiously at the closed bedroom door.

Ginny giggled through her tears. "You guys are really in love, aren't you?"

Hermione's cheeks went pink, and her eyes grew cloudy with emotion. "Madly," she whispered, a sweet smile teasing at her lips. "I mean, it can get difficult, because he's such an annoying little git sometimes," she laughed, "but I really do love him… more than I've ever loved anything in my entire life."

Sniffing, Ginny smiled. "When did you know?" she asked.

The bushy haired woman sighed dreamily, gazing into midair as she remembered. "When I was fifteen," she breathed. "I had no idea I'd want him so badly, but I did, and when he never asked me to the Yule Ball…" She suddenly laughed. "Well, I went a bit mad with it, then." Her grin was tender. "Like I said, these things really can't be helped, can they?"

"No," Ginny sighed thoughtfully, her heart strumming emotionally in her chest. "I suppose they can't."

* * *

Her closet was a mess, she realized, as she fumbled through it. She ignored her wedding dress robes and her new Quidditch robes as she flipped through the hangers and turned out the pockets of each robe she came across. She had to find it. Was it still here? Had she thrown it away by accident, or dropped it, or—her heart plummeted to consider it—had Harry found it? Her mind was racing as she reached into every pocket desperately, and her pulse shuddered to a halt when, at last, in the depths of one, her fist closed around a silky smooth piece of fabric. Clutching it tightly, she extracted it. It was slightly dusty now, having sat in her pocket, untouched, for a week or so, but it was still beautiful. She sat upon her bed staring down at the little cloth in wonder, turning it all over in her mind. What had Draco done to her in these past couple of weeks? Was it magic, or did she really…? 

It didn't make any sense. Her entire face stung with tears begging to spill out again, but she held them in, gazing at the handkerchief. _D.M._ complimented the immaculate whiteness in clean, gold thread, and she stared at the letters longingly. She knew she wanted him. She could not deny that any more. But did she love him?

She couldn't. She _couldn't_ love him. She thought of the reluctant despair that had possessed her when he'd told her she was nothing to him. She thought of how badly she missed his hands, his lips, and even his voice. She thought of how doubtful she was about marrying Harry now, of how right Draco seemed in that sense, of how good her own enemy could make her feel…

"I'm _not_ falling in love with him," she told herself firmly, her eyes still tracing the shape of the teasing initials sewn into the fabric. "I refuse to."

Her hands were shaking as she held the handkerchief in her lap, her fingers lightly grazing the ornate _D_ as they quivered. She didn't want to touch the _M_.

_Malfoy_, she thought bitterly. Yes, Draco was a _Malfoy_. Why didn't she remember that? Her use of his first name had polluted the truth that she was trying to keep focused on: he was a Malfoy. He's a Malfoy, and Weasleys and Malfoys _don't_ get along.

But he was so different from his father, wasn't he? She countered herself, sighing as she gave in to that side of her heart. He didn't want to be like him. He had experienced things that would scar anyone, been forced into situations he'd never meant to get involved it, and his fondness for his father had dropped. He was nicer than he had been at school—sometimes… when he was alone with her, he was, at least. The way he smiled, she just knew he felt guilty, and the bags around his eyes betrayed the fact that he wasn't sleeping well. He was tormented by all that he'd done, and he wanted forgiveness: didn't that, on its own, redeem him? Hadn't Dumbledore always said that a person's choices make him who he is, not his blood? Her heart panged. She was fooling herself, trying to convince herself that Draco Malfoy could even be good, or could ever change, even for the sake of love.

"Love," she spat. "There is no love where he and I are concerned. There's only hate." Then again… hadn't Hermione just said: _there's a fine line between love and hate_? She had. Was it true? Had her hate really morphed into something…? But it was impossible. It was _Malfoy_, for crying out loud! If Hermione had known who she was talking about, she never would have been so quick to talk about love. This was so much different than the hatred Hermione and Ron had shared for so long. Their love had been obvious from the very beginning. But Ginny and Draco… this was something different altogether. This was sick.

Ginny shook her head madly, closing her eyes to the sight of Draco's handkerchief on her lap. "Stop it," she told herself angrily. "Stop talking about love. You don't love him. You_ can't_ love him. He's nothing. He doesn't matter. He's unimportant. You have Harry."

And at these words, she heard the front door clicking open. Her heart throbbed, and she stuffed the handkerchief anxiously inside the pocket of her shorts, her nerves aflame with guilt as Harry came in looking tired, but glad to see her.

* * *

She lay away that night, caught in a downpour of conflicting emotions. Lying beside Harry's sleeping body, she could feel him radiating the warmth she so loved to feel from him, but at the moment, she didn't want to feel it. She wanted it to stop. She wanted him to stop loving her, so she could stop feeling guilty for not loving him as loyally as she should. She pressed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but it didn't work. She covered her ears as though that would stop Draco's voice from echoing tantalizingly in her head. "Go away," she whispered under her breath to the silent night. "Please, leave me alone." It didn't work. She shook her head, and buried her face into her pillow, her palms still pressed desperately over her ears. She let out an involuntary whimper, biting her lip. She wanted Draco to stop haunting her. She wanted Harry to stop being so sweet. She wanted it to not be so wrong to want Draco. 

Before she knew it, she was no longer lying in bed, but standing in her white wedding dress robes. Her hair was done up, lace draping over it delicately, and in her fists she held a bouquet of a variety of dazzlingly beautiful flowers. She smiled as she walked down the isle, and all heads turned to her. She saw Hermione and Ron gazing at her, though Hermione looked pained, and she saw Fred and George sitting in the front row, applauding her—both of them. Harry stood by Professor Dumbledore, who wore robes of a dark green. Draco stood opposite him, on Dumbledore's other side. Both Draco and Harry wore the most handsome of dress robes, and both looked stunning.

When she reached them, she was grinning. This was perfectly natural. This was how everything should be. Dumbledore looked happily at her over his thin, half-moon spectacles. His brilliantly blue eyes were twinkling at her as he smiled. "Do you, Ginevra Molly Weasley, take this man to be your magically and lawfully wedded husband?"

"Uh…" she looked at Harry and Draco in turn. "Which one?"

"That," Dumbledore said mysteriously, "is for _you_ to decide."

"But… I can't!" she cried at him. The crowd was looking at her accusingly.

"You're supposed to choose one!" Hermione shouted.

Fred and George started to laugh. "She _can't_ choose one!" Fred chuckled. "She's never been able to do anything for herself. Remember, George," he said, turning to his twin, "that time when I died? She didn't even remember me once it happened. She pretended I never existed, just to make her self feel better. What a selfish person, wouldn't you agree?"

George nodded in agreement, looking grave. "I couldn't agree more, Fred. She'll never make her own decisions, or live the way she wants to. She'll always do what makes things simple, won't she?"

"_Stop it_!" Ginny screamed at them, dropping her bouquet to clap her hands to her face in embarrassment. "This is my wedding! Stop messing it up!"

"It's not them that's messing it up," said Harry quietly. "Nor is it me or Draco, even. It's you that's ruining it for you."

"What?" she stuttered. "No… no, I didn't…"

"He's right," Draco agreed. "You brought me here. You didn't have to."

"But… I wanted to!"

"Why?" Draco asked her, leaning to his side with his hands on his hips, looking haughty and impressive, and hypnotically beautiful in his dress robes.

Ginny let out a noise of indignation. "I don't know!" she cried.

"Do you want to marry me, or not?" Harry hissed, his eyes glowing with rage.

"I… of course!" she gasped.

"What about me?" Draco asked calmly, though his face wore a vicious sneer.

"Yes," she sobbed. "You, too… I want to have you both."

"Do you love us both?" Harry inquired, sounding accusatory.

She sniffled. "I don't know. This is too stupid. It's not real."

"It's always real," Dumbledore told her seriously, frowning. "But remember, Ginny: love will always triumph!"

And at that, he skipped away merrily, looking hilariously like a cheerful schoolboy with long white hair. She glanced back at Harry, and took his hand, but Draco snatched their palms apart, looking furious. She turned again to Draco, and at this, her eyes snapped suddenly open.

She was lying in her bed again, and sweat was drenching every inch of her. She threw the covers from around her so that the cool air of the night could let her breathe again. "Oh god," she whispered. "Oh _god_."

Ginny felt nauseous. She stood quickly, and flung herself to the bathroom. She shut the door quiet behind her, and slid down it to sit shakily upon the tiled floor. She wanted out of this house. She wanted out of these feelings for Draco that were getting stronger and more poignant with every breath she took. She wanted recklessly to leave: to find Draco, and just go with him… stay with him forever. "Oh god," she said again, her stomach churning, her blood boiling, and her brain pulsing violently in her skull. "Oh god…" She felt literally sick now, and she heaved. Scrambling to the toilet, she bent over it, breathing deeply. Nothing happened, but she still felt miserable. Her heart had exploded, it seemed, and tiny bits of it were flowing through her bloodstream, crackling with electric desire every time she drew breath. "_Oh god_," was all she could say again, for it had finally hit her… the truth had finally crashed over her in a wave of such sheer disgust and horror that she had suddenly to fight the intensely overpowering urge to vomit.

"I love him."

* * *

**A/N:** OH GOD, THE DRAMA! IT KILLS!! Anyway, thanks for reading! Please review!! It's not so hard, and I'd really appreciate it!! 


	15. Let Love In, All The Same

**A/N:** WHOA BABY THE DRAMA IS KILLING MEEEEE!!! It's like I have no power anymore, and Draco's being a bitch all on his own. Damn him!!! Why can't he just get over himself?! Uuuugh!! He's making things SO complicated. He's starting to become slightly out of character (I THINK... you'll have to tell me, though), and as much as it pisses me off, I kinda love this Draco. neeheeheehee. Oh, and I'm sorry for the whole "OMFGZANGSTYDRACOHATESEVILBITCHYLUCIUSFATHER" thing, but it just HAD to happen. I don't know why. It just did, okay?! Sometimes you just NEED to put the cliche angst in there, or it's no good!! I felt like it had to happen. If you disagree, I'm sorry, lol, but it felt, to me, like it was necessary.

OH WELLS! ENJOY THE CHAPTERRRRR!!!!!

* * *

When Ginny had calmed herself at last, she stepped on shaking legs into the hall again. She found her way back to the bedroom, and stared at Harry's sleeping form. She felt blank as she looked at the mound of blankets that she knew was her fiancé. The lump that was Harry was breathing deeply. She watched him. The moonlight pouring in from the open window painted a pale grey glaze over his body, which cast deep shadows over the rest of the bed. His face was barely visible in the darkness, but his jet black hair was illuminated by the pale moon, and shone fantastically blue. As he shifted his head unconsciously, the strands of his hair glittered at her, winking, mocking her, and she looked away. 

Her entire life, the only love she'd known was Harry. When he'd kissed her that day, way back in fifth year, she'd gone mad with bliss, finally reaching what felt like an impossible goal. She had the man she'd always wanted… the only man who'd ever plagued her thoughts the way a true love should… the only man who'd ever invaded her fantasies… the only man she'd ever felt she needed for survival, the man she breathed to stay alive… She finally had him, and now it was all ruined. Everything was ruined. She couldn't marry him like this. She couldn't do it; not when she was falling in love with someone else.

Draco Malfoy had come along and ruined everything for her, but she, too, was at a fault. She let it happen. She loved him. She could not believe herself.

Looking back at Harry, guilt broke out inside of her like a disease, eating at her innards, bones, and flesh. What was she going to do? She couldn't get married to Harry in this time in her life, but she couldn't leave him… Could she? No. She couldn't. She _wouldn't_. He didn't deserve to be left. And yet, he didn't deserve to have her stay with him and lie to her, did he? He was too good to have her, an unfaithful liar. She did not deserve him. She shook her head, completely unsure. Confusion made her head throb painfully again. Breathing deeply, she looked away from him, and left the room. Leaning against the wall outside the bedroom, Ginny put her hands to her head. What was happening to her? What had Draco done to her? She could never forgive him for it, but nor could she leave him. He was the only thing that she was sure of anymore—he made things complicated, mixing up her feelings about everything else in the world, but her feelings for him became all she knew was real now.

An unprecedented determination arose within her. Draco had gotten her into it all, and he was the only person she could think of now who she could go to. He was the only other person in the world who knew the whole story, and he was going to fix this mess one way or another.

Or… was this an excuse to see him again? She wondered as she rummaged through Harry's possessions, her fingers at last detecting a delicate, watery fabric: his invisibility cloak. She threw it over herself as Harry slept on—so happily unaware of her heartrending guilt. Slipping quietly down the stairs and across the hall, she left Grimmauld Place, and disapparated, concentrating particularly hard so as not to splinch herself in her distress.

* * *

Just as it had been on the one other night that she had been in the Malfoy's garden, the darkness was so thick that she couldn't make out much in the way of anything, except for the occasional silhouette of a bush or tree. She stumbled toward the looming manor, and with a shaking hand, knocked three times. For several moments, nothing happened, and Ginny began suddenly to regret coming. She wanted to go back. This had been a bad idea. Why had she come? And yet, her feet stayed rooted to the spot. 

When the door opened, she held her breath, but no one was there. Had it opened on its own? But then a small, terrified squeak asked, "Who's there?" She looked down. A house elf was glaring around in the darkness, looking right through Ginny's calves and into the garden.

She cleared her throat, and the elf jumped. "Is Draco Malfoy here?" she asked the elf quietly, trying hard to make her voice sound different than it usually did.

"Who… who wants to know?" the elf squealed, looking upward for the source of her disembodied voice.

"A friend," she said. "Is he here?"

"Who are you?"

She decided on a different tactic. Perhaps, like Kreacher, he would respond more willingly to overt kindness. "I bet the Malfoys don't treat you very nicely, do they?"

"The Malfoys is a good family!" the little elf cried, her eyes popping. "They treats me as good as any other elf!"

Ginny sighed. "Well, I'm sure your master Draco would _really_ appreciate it if you led me to him."

"But…" She looked wild with confusion. "I still does not know who you is!"

She gave up. "Ugh, fine," she hissed, and stepped right over the tiny creature and into the hall. She stopped when she passed the wall against which she had been shoved the other day. She shivered as she remembered the things his mouth and hands had done. Shaking away these memories, she continued down the hall, but was stopped quickly as she caught sight of the open doorway that she knew led to a small, stylish sitting room. She had not looked around it properly last time, but she had certainly noticed the couch as she had lain, naked, upon it. She glanced inside, and gave a breathy gasp of wonder at the sight that met her greedy eyes.

Draco was there, draped elegantly over the couch she had lain on just the other day. His bare feet were balanced delicately upon the low coffee table that stood before the velvet seat. His arms were spread gracefully over the back of the couch, and his head was leaned back upon it as well. Was he asleep? She slipped cautiously through the open door, but as she did so, he lifted his head again, and sighed. She watched him, realizing all at once how deeply she loved him, even in all his arrogant ways. He wore a dark green silk robe over his undergarments, and it was open at the front, displaying generously his soft, pale skin for her eyes to feast upon with pleasure. The gloom of night made him look perfect, and so regal. The glow of the candles lit around the room made the shadows on his face dance cheerfully to contrast his contemplative expression. His white-blonde hair appeared luminescent in this light, and his silver eyes were surely glowing as the firelight played bright highlights over his pallid complexion. The bags under his eyes were emphasized drastically in this dramatic lighting, and her heart panged as she remembered that he didn't sleep well.

She shut the door behind her, and Draco's head snapped toward her. "Who's there?" he asked lazily, though he looked anxious. He pulled his arms out of their position, and he placed his hands on his knees as though preparing to spring to his feet.

It was then that she removed Harry's cloak. Draco blinked as she appeared suddenly, but otherwise he made no sign of surprise. "Ginny," he said quietly in greeting, nodding his head curtly and relaxing his limbs again.

"I'm sorry I didn't come today," she whispered. "I had to figure some things out."

"Understandable," he sneered, looking away from her, and directly into the nearest candle. His eyes seemed to leap as the flame reflected in their glassy surfaces. "There must be much to plan before a wedding."

"Stop it," Ginny hissed, and he turned back to her again, his expression placid, but his brow low. "I came here… to make something clear." It suddenly all made sense, as though to gaze upon Draco's perfect features again gave her the inspiration to think properly.

She walked slowly over to him, their eyes locked on one another. Sitting beside him on the couch, she took a deep breath. "Draco," she sighed, "I…" Could she really say it? She didn't think she could, now. "I'm marrying Harry tomorrow," she began. He blinked slowly, his expressionless silver eyes still rested stubbornly upon her face. "But I just needed you to know…"

He said nothing during her pause. She was fidgeting with the fabric of her sleep clothes, which she had not bothered to remove in her haste to get to Draco, to tell him… But now as she sat beside him like this, she felt the inferiority sweeping over her. Draco was so elegantly dressed, and he held himself so proudly as he sat there, but she… she was dressed in an old shirt of Bill's, and a clean pair of boxers that Ron never wore. She felt beneath him… so beneath him… and she was now regretting more than ever her decision to come and tell him how she felt. She swallowed. "I…"

"What?" he asked, with what might have been kindness in his voice.

"I just… I… I…" she stuttered. "I'm sorry, this was a… a bad idea," she said quickly, standing to put the invisibility cloak back on. Feeling a hand catch her wrist, she turned to see that Draco had stood, too.

"What did you want me to know?" he asked again, looking almost… desperate?

Ginny peered into his silver eyes. It was a mistake. The sight of them staring into her made her weak, and she melted into his hands as they drew her to him. "What is it?" he whispered breathily into her ear, the desire in every syllable clear as he embraced her. She shivered, and closed her eyes, letting her head droop onto his shoulder sleepily.

She sniffed against him, a calm smile sliding involuntarily to her lips as her arms wrapped themselves around his waist. She could feel his hands on the small of her back as he held her—not as though to seduce, but as though to comfort. This alone was her undoing.

"I love you," she sighed breathlessly.

He did not respond but to tighten his embrace. His hands groped her to him desperately, as though he needed to take her into him to keep himself alive. "Draco," she said softly on a deep exhale.

"And you're getting married," he stated flatly, still holding her.

"So are you."

"I'm not."

She pulled away. "What?" she gasped. "Why not? What happened?"

"_You _did," he drawled in annoyance. "I called off the engagement because of _you_." His eyes were wet as he stared tenderly into hers. Her chest ached as her heart hammered wildly. "I love you, Ginny." Her lips fell apart so she could breathe again, but it felt impossible. She had ceased to understand English, it seemed. Love took over every fiber of her being as she gazed adoringly into Draco's silver eyes. "I… I love you, and I just can't stop it. It's terrible. I feel… sick," he choked, looking disgusted with himself. "I've never wanted to get rid of a feeling more than this one, but it's impossible. You've really made me crazy, Ginny." And he truly looked it as he grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and shook her violently. "What have you done to me, you filthy blood-traitor? You're no great beauty, your financial situation is regrettable, and you keep the company of mudbloods, but I just can't… I can't stop thinking about you…_ dreaming_ about you… wishing you're with me, wherever I am. It's… terrible," he croaked again.

Ginny felt both thoroughly insulted and completely elated. She had no time to comment however as he continued his rant:

"You've made me so crazy that I actually considered your stupid ideas about love being so important. You've made me hate my fiancée, and my family, and myself, and all that makes sense anymore is_ you_, Ginny." She felt on fire as loving tears began to pour graciously down her cheeks. She had never felt so full—so close to exploding with an emotion so pure. "So I called off the engagement. I couldn't marry her, Ginny, I couldn't." He was hugging her tightly again, slouching dramatically to bury his face in her shoulder. His entire body was shaking. Was he crying? "It's all your fault, Ginny," he whimpered, sounding so uncharacteristically weak that Ginny felt broken to hear it. She stroked his soft hair, caressing his head tenderly as he heaved against her. "You made me call off the engagement, and I had to explain things to my parents. God… my father…" He shivered around her. "…He was furious when I told him I never wanted her. He yelled, on and on, about how perfect she was… how few pure blood families there are left to marry into, and then I…" His grasp tightened, and she was so close to him that she might have simply become a part of his body without noticing. "I shouted that maybe I didn't care about pure blood, or how perfect she was… and that… _love_… was what should matter…"

"You _didn't_, Draco," Ginny moaned in horror. Her voice was shaking. She had never felt more loved, or more needed than she did at that moment.

"I did," he sighed through his teeth, and the sound was agonizing, as though it hurt him to say the words.

"But…" she stuttered, snuggling into his silk robe comfortingly. "…How did your father respond to _that_?"

He gave a hollow laugh, and let her go, taking several backwards steps away from her. He was shaking his head, his expression blank. "What—?" she began, but her question was answered before she could ask it. Draco lifted his chin purposefully to the ceiling, and he indicated several thick, purple bruises around his throat. She hadn't noticed them before. "Oh _god_, Draco, he… he _didn't_!" She flew back to his side, her fingertips examining the injuries carefully. Her touch was lighter than she supposed he'd ever felt, for she sensed him go rigid at her gentle, loving caress.

"He did," Draco confirmed with a twisted, empty smile that was really more of a grimace. "It wasn't about _her_," he sighed, "It was about me." His eyes were suddenly dark as he glared at her aggrievedly. "…About what you've done to me."

She pulled her hands back, feeling suddenly anxious. "You… you didn't mention _me_ to your father, did you?"

"No," he said hurriedly. "I don't trust him. Not after what he did to you… and not after what he left me to do when I was sixteen… and after… well… after what he did to me today. I should never have trusted him from the start." He shrank away from her, collapsing again upon the velvet couch. "God… I never asked to love you," he muttered furiously. "I hate this."

"You think _I_ like it any more than _you_ do?" she asked in a quaking whisper. "I _can't stand you_, but I can't stand not _being _with you."

"But you still _won't_ be," he spat, "will you? No. I left my fiancée for your sake, and you're still more than willing to run off and marry Potter…"

"_More than willing_? It's _killing_ me!" she shrieked, sounding crazed. He put a finger to his lips, his terrified eyes glancing madly toward the closed door. She lowered her voice as she went on. "_This_," she spat in a strained whisper, "is killing me. Being with you and not with Harry is killing me… but to marry Harry and not be with you would kill me also."

In their silence, she flopped miserably on the couch beside him to feel his warmth emanate onto her. His knee was bouncing anxiously. She stared at him, admiring the curve of his cheekbones in the firelight, the point of his nose, the shape of his flawless lips, even the bags that lingered about his eyes. She couldn't help it. She loved him. Her eyes traveled down to his neck, drinking in the filthy bruises Draco's father had afflicted. Her heart felt bruised as well to see them, to see his perfect, pale skin so marred by purple wounds his own father's hands had created. It was sick. As he looked back at her again, and their eyes met, she swallowed. Those silvery irises were slightly eerie as they glared at her. "Draco," she sighed sympathetically, sounding pained beyond reason, "has your father ever… before this?"

Draco shook his head. "I'm not an abused child, if that's what you mean," he hissed, his eyebrows raised. He glowered at her as though daring her to question that.

"Oh," was all she could say, but his expression softened as her hand slipped into his. He clenched her fingers, and closed his eyes.

"Once, though," he whispered solemnly. "When I was eight, I once told him I didn't understand what was wrong with mudbloods. I get it now, but back then I was ignorant, and I didn't understand." Ginny held her tongue, trying hard not to yell at him for his sick language, and his discriminatory opinions. "I told him so," he sighed, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

He did not go on, but his lips were shaking as though he had more to say, but didn't know how to get it out. "What did he do then, Draco?" she cooed, soothing him with her unusually gentle tone.

She watched him take a breath and shrug. "It wasn't so bad, honestly," he said, opening his eyes again and staring off into space. "But his message definitely got across."

"What did he do?" she pressed, curiosity and sympathy overwhelming her. "Draco, what did he…?"

"It was nothing," he said quickly, brushing her off coldly. His fingers slid out from within hers, and he clenched his fists tightly in his lap threateningly, as though warning her not to ask again. She didn't. "Nothing makes sense anymore, because of you." Her heart felt stopped. "God damn you, Ginny."

Staring at him, she felt the love well up inside of her like a giant balloon, swelling so fully she was surprised she hadn't burst. He exhaled, sounding exasperated. "I came down here to get away from him… and to try to feel closer to you… but it only hurts."

"What—?"

"This couch," he whispered, his face blank, "still smells like you. Actually, I'm not even sure it does. For all that I know, it's just in my head, but it feels so real… like it's haunting me, teasing me with what I can't have."

She couldn't help but give a slight, humorless laugh. "I didn't know I smelled," she said skeptically.

He leaned his head back on the couch, his arms outstretched again, the way he had been when she'd first entered the room. He inhaled deeply through his nose, his nostrils flaring, and a smile spreading across his blank expression. "Like… honey," he stated flatly, sounding in a deep calm. But with a quiet snigger he added, "And sweat."

Feeling awkward, she scratched the back of her head. "Um… thank you?" she said uncertainly, and he laughed, picking his head up again to look at her.

"You're everything I've always hated, but you've made me love you. I never even _believed_ in love until you came along and made it so," he said. He sounded both admiring and bitter, and his expression was indiscernible. "Why did you do this to me?" His voice then became desperate. "Why did you make me like this? Why did you make me feel these things when I'm just not supposed to?"

She swallowed nervously. "Who says you're not supposed to?" she breathed. "Maybe, like I said the first time we kissed, fate threw me into your life to show you that you _are_ supposed to feel love… to show you how much you _do_ deserve it."

"But with _you_?" he asked skeptically. "Of_ all_ the people, fate decided I should love _you_?"

Ginny laughed hollowly. "I don't think that was fate," she sighed. "I think that was an accident. If it were really all down to fate, we'd probably still be mortal enemies."

"Like me and Potter?" he questioned, looking pointedly at her. He was scrutinizing her face so intently with those vibrantly silver eyes that she felt chilled, like she had no privacy anymore. She nodded at his words, however, still staring into his dark pupils meaningfully.

"Just like that," she whispered, her chest constricted with emotion.

"So you're still going to marry him?" His face was vacant of expression.

"I can't," she admitted with a breathless sigh, "but I can't _not_."

"Double negative," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Never mind," he said quickly. "You love him, so you should marry him. That's what you've been convincing me for the past few weeks."

"But I love _you_, Draco," she reminded him, her voice strained, her limbs feeling weak as she gazed at him. Her arms slinked around his neck, and she hung off of him that way, her head on his shoulder, for several peaceful, silent minutes. Hugging him to her, things felt even less clear, for her mind was full to the brim with her love for Draco.

He was not returning the gesture as she clung to him sweetly. He stared blankly away from her, his eyes full of thought. After a while, he finally said, "We have no life together, Ginny." She looked up at him, unraveling her arms from around his bruised neck. Tears were inching their way to her eyes, and his words sounded extremely strangled with his own despair. "We never will. You might as well just marry Saint Potter and be done with it."

Had her heart really shattered, as she felt it had? And was that rushing sound in her ears really her blood pumping to the sorrowful tune of her heartbreak? Still… what else had she wanted him to say? Hadn't she wanted it to be this way? Hadn't she wanted to love him, and know he loved her, but still to wed Harry? Wasn't this the way she wanted things? She nodded solemnly, as though it was her own death sentence. "I will," she confirmed, though it tore her apart to say it. "If you think that's best… then I will."

Draco nodded, but his eyes shone unusually bright with his regret. "Things… will be simpler that way," he said, just as the long French window developed the familiar faint glow that marked the commencement of sunrise.

"The sun's coming up," she croaked, her throat feeling unnaturally dry. It hurt to speak. "I should get back to Harry."

"Yes; tomorrow is a big day for you, I'm sure," he hissed resentfully.

"Oh, don't give me that," she spat angrily. "How _dare _you admit you love me, tell me to just go ahead with marrying Harry anyway, and then _make fun of me_ for it?"

"Maybe if I do," he said quietly, "it'll be easier for you to leave me."

She had no response to this. Standing quickly on shaking legs, she picked up the invisibility cloak from the place where she had dropped it. "If you really think I should leave you," she whispered as she shook painfully with despair, "then I will."

He nodded again, and with a terrible, strangled sound, she breathed, "I love you, Draco," and threw Harry's cloak over herself again as she left.

* * *

**A/N:** THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING, now please review, my loves! It'll mean a lot to me! Thanks!!! 


	16. Change Your Mind, There Goes The Fear

**A/N:** OWWW!!!!!!!! My jaw!!! I got two more wisom teeth out today, and it hurts sooo bad!!!! To comfort myself, I decided to FINALLY write this, the chapter everyone's been begging me to write!! And so it has been done!! But oh, do not assume that this is the end, you silly readers. Things are going to get steadily more dramatic still. XD For that, I do apologize, but you can't possibly deny how unbelievably fun drama is to write, now can you? Hee hee hee.

Do enjoy!!!!

* * *

Harry was so peaceful while he slept. She gazed at him thoughtfully when she had dressed and sat beside him on the bed, while the window grew steadily lighter with the rising sun. He would be her husband by the end of this coming day. Could she really handle it? She felt no different than she had a few years ago, at which point she had been definitely too young for marriage… so was she really any more mature now? Why had she accepted his proposal? 

It had made sense at the time. It had been exactly what she wanted, to be married to Harry, who she loved more than anything in the world. But now…

She sighed as she watched Harry sleeping. Did she really have the strength to do what her heart was telling her to? Did she really have the strength to follow Draco's orders and leave him? Was she really strong enough to forget Draco, and just marry Harry? Even if she couldn't, was she weak enough to just stay with Draco? But hadn't Hermione said that she should stay with who she loved? Did she really even love Harry anymore, or did she love the fact that she _used_ to love him, and the fact that she could be with the Boy Who Lived forever? She couldn't be sure anymore. All that she could be certain she knew was real was her love for Draco, no matter how she hated the fact.

The window was brightly lit with the sunlight pouring in. She felt so guilty. It was her wedding day, she had love, and the sun was shining happily. Shouldn't she be happier?

_But you're in love with the wrong person_, Ginny reminded herself. _You love the enemy of the man you should love._ Shaking her head as it throbbed violently, she left the bedroom. She hoped that maybe her guilt would lessen without Harry's presence, reminding her shamefully of her disloyalty to him.

As she slipped down the creaking stairs into the dark hallway, she tried to sort things through in her mind. Draco _Malfoy_—her worst enemy—was in love with her, and against her own will, she loved him too. He had already given up everything for her: he had shouted at his overbearing father and nearly been strangled for it, and he had called off his own engagement… all because he was in love with her: Ginny Weasley… _Weasley_. Her heart knew what it wanted. Her heart knew that her love for Draco had become stronger than her hate, and that her love for Harry had faded because of it, but her guilty mind still denied it. She accepted that she loved Draco—no matter how sick she knew it was—but she denied that it was overpowering her ability to see reason and logic. Still, the truth remained that her love was possessing, and overwhelming. It had consumed her heart and soul, and she couldn't find room inside of her for anything else. Her love for him had become as real as her heartbeat, its constant rhythm so beautiful, and so necessary for her survival.

Exhaustion was itching at her eyes, begging for them to close and let her sleep, but she ignored it. On the doorstep outside the house, she disapparated carefully, and moments later stood in the Burrow's back yard.

"Mum?" Ginny called with a cracking voice. Her mother's squeal of excitement might have made her deaf if she had been standing right beside her.

"OH, GINNY!" Mrs. Weasley cried wildly. "Oh, I can't believe my little girl is getting married today!" She flung her arms around her daughter like a madwoman, and Ginny was suddenly crushed under her weight.

Coughing and spluttering, she choked, "Mum… calm down…"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ginny, dear, I just…" Her eyes welled with tears. "I can't believe it."

"Yeah," Ginny agreed, feeling ashamed. She felt like a liar… like she was cheating Harry out of a life with someone he deserved. She did love Harry… she _did_… but Draco was breaking into her mind and taking over her thoughts, and she just didn't have room in her heart for them both. She wanted so to push Draco away, to keep Harry as the one she loved, but like Hermione said: a person can't help who he or she loves, can they? She hoped, though, that with enough time away from Draco, and after being married to Harry for long enough, that her heart would finally let that damned ferret go, and make room again for Harry. This hope was all that kept her going as her mother shooed her into the kitchen to help her start making food, going on and on about the wedding.

Nearly everything was prepared. A whole scene was set up in the back yard for the ceremony, with lace suspended magically in midair all around the rows of chairs, where the guests would sit. Looking out of the window and seeing such a sight made her feel ill. This was all for her… all for her and Harry. The newly risen sun made the image even more beautiful, glowing dazzling shades of orange and yellow that reflected on the surfaces of the chairs and glinted mockingly at Ginny. The grass was blowing about in a light August breeze, and the romance of the setting made Ginny feel even worse.

Harry arrived soon after Ginny had begun helping her mother in the kitchen, and from what Ginny could hear of his frantic voice, he had been worried to wake up without her beside him. Mrs. Weasley waved him back into the yard the moment he had come inside, however, telling him to go work on the decorations.

"Why did you do that?" Ginny asked her with a laugh, suppressing her guilt as she looked out the window at Harry—who looked utterly bewildered as to what else he could add to the beautiful scenery.

"What… make him leave? Because he's not supposed to see his bride before the wedding, is he?"

Ginny grinned amusedly at her mother. "That's only once I'm in my dress, mum," she reminded her.

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley said, looking embarrassed. "Well… the guests will start arriving soon anyway, so why don't you go up into your old room and start getting ready?"

"You're sure you don't need more help here with the cake?" Ginny said, eyeing the towering thing hungrily. She hadn't realized how hungry she really was until then.

Her mother waved her away as she hovered protectively in front of the cake she was baking. "No, no, really, Ginny, Ron and Hermione should be here soon, anyway, so… oh, yes! You see?"

There they were. Ron looked exhausted, yawning widely as he entered the kitchen, but Hermione appeared wide awake. "Hi, Ginny," she said with a smile.

"Hi, Hermione," Ginny replied, looking down at her feet. Hermione knew so much, and there she stood before her with Ron there, too… and Ginny's mother… and Harry was also right there in the back yard… She felt strangely vulnerable at that moment.

"Good, you're here!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "Ron, you can help me in here, and Hermione, you can go upstairs with Ginny and help her get ready."

"Oh," Hermione said, turning pink. "Um… alright."

They made their way up the stairs to Ginny's room in silence, but the minute Ginny had closed her door, Hermione spoke up. "Oh, Ginny," she squealed, "is everything alright? Have you even slept since we spoke yesterday?"

"No," Ginny admitted. "I haven't."

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione sighed, hugging her. "And how's everything with… that guy?"

"Terrible," she croaked. She wanted so badly to forget Draco right now, but it just wasn't happening. "I think I…" She cleared her throat. "No… I do. I love him." Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth looking horrorstruck as Ginny sat down upon her old bed, ashamed. "I know," she moaned in anguish. "I didn't mean to fall in love with him, but I…"

Hermione sat beside her, lowering her hands. Her brow was creased in sympathy. "You can't help who you fall in love with," she said sadly.

"Exactly," Ginny sighed. "But I hate it."

"Because you still have Harry?"

"No. Because I hate _him_. Or… I'm supposed to."

Though Hermione looked suspicious, her voice was still calm and caring. "You're getting married_ today_, Ginny. Don't you think you should maybe let Harry know?"

"I can't," Ginny squeaked, looking terrified. "I broke it off with Dr—that guy. Or rather, he broke it off with me. Or, it was a mutual decision. I don't know. But we did it so I could marry Harry, and so that he could… I don't know. We could never have had a life together anyway."

"Still," Hermione pressed, "I think Harry has the right to know. This affects him, too, even if you're still going to marry him. I mean… do you even still _love_ Harry?"

"I…" She didn't know what to say anymore. She did love him, didn't she? Just… less. "I suppose so," she said uncertainly, "but I just don't know anything anymore, and it's all _his_ fault." Her fingers looped themselves in her hair near her scalp. She felt that fury rising up inside of her again… that fury that was, moments later, accompanied by a terrifying rush of acceptance and adoration for the man who was supposed to be her enemy…

At that moment, the door banged open. Hermione gave a little squeak, and leapt into the air as though she'd just been caught doing something shameful. Ginny glanced up in shock, half expecting to see Draco standing there, but it was only Fleur. "I 'ave arrived!" she said in her thick accent. Little Victoire was bundled in her arms, and Ginny and Hermione both let out involuntary squeals of adoration. Hermione flew to Fleur's side, and poured over the baby.

"Oh, Fleur!" she cried. "Victoire is beautiful! Congratulations!"

"Thank you," Fleur said haughtily, gazing lovingly down at the child she was clutching. Ginny couldn't help the squeaks she was emitting, nor refuse the smile itching at her mouth. "But today eez Ginevra's day!" she exclaimed, sweeping over to Ginny and planting a kiss on each of her cheeks. Her face flushed red at this, never having been kissed this way before. "You and 'Arry will be very 'appy togezzer, I am sure!"

Ginny was still blushing and now being ambushed by another burst of guilt, but she smiled nonetheless at the unnaturally beautiful woman. "Uh… thank you, Fleur," she mumbled.

"Now," Fleur said, plopping little Victoire into a delighted Hermione's arms as she turned excitedly to Ginny, "where are your wedding dress robes?"

* * *

Ginny's head was spinning. This was the moment that every girl should dream of. This was the moment that every girl should always have the chance to indulge in having and being able to remember for the rest of her life: getting married to the man she loved. But she wasn't getting married to the man she loved… not anymore: she was marrying instead the man she _used_ to love, who had been replaced in her heart by the man she had to hate. 

Hermione stood beside her at the back door. "Ginny, I love Harry dearly, and I want him to be happy, but… are you really thinking?"

"This is what I have to do to be happy," she replied blankly, her face quite expressionless.

"You keep doing that!" Hermione hissed anxiously. "You keep betting your happiness on Harry! Why can't you just be happy with what _you_ think is good for you?"

"This_ is_ what's good for me, Hermione," she sighed. "I would never be happy with Draco."

"With—?"

Ginny's heart sank. She hadn't said it. She _hadn't_… had she? She couldn't have. Oh god. Hermione's hands were back at her face, her entire face pink. Her eyes were suddenly cold, and her eyebrows low as she glared, horrified, at Ginny. This was the expression Ginny hadn't wanted to see. This was why she hid it. _This _was why.

"Not… not Draco _Malfoy_?" she squeaked. Ginny did not answer. Hermione's bushy hair was pulled back in a neat bun, and she wore slight dabs of pink on her eyelids which complimented her nicely, but her sudden expression ruined it, so mad with disgust. "Oh, _Ginny_!" she cried. "No, no, no… not _Malfo_y! You _can't_ love Malfoy! He's… he's _Malfoy_!"

"You think I don't _know_ that?" Ginny hissed. "That's why I _can't_ be with him. I _need_ to marry Harry, and get him out of my head. Can you imagine what it would be like if I was to leave Harry for _him_?"

"I… oh god…" Hermione stuttered, gazing in terrified awe at Ginny as though she had never seen her properly before. "Ginny, you're…you're in love with _Malfoy_!"

"Stop!" she breathed, covering her face with her hands. "I know! It's horrible! Stop reminding me!"

Hermione sighed, her expression changing slowly from that of shocked horror to one of sad understanding. "Oh, Ginny…" Her voice was heart-wrenching and sympathetic. "Oh, Ginny… I'm _so_ sorry…" she said quietly, the sorrow in her tone quite plain. She grasped Ginny comfortingly by her shoulder, and gave her a light, encouraging squeeze.

"Ginny!" came her father's adoring voice as he swept over to them. He looked ecstatic. "Ginny, it's almost our time! Are you ready?" She looked at her father. She felt blank, empty, even as she saw the delight upon his face. His eyes were twinkling lovingly at her. Hermione beside her was whimpering, for she was the only one who knew what was going through Ginny's mind at that moment. Every step through that door would hurt, for it was a step to a life without Draco… like a step to her death.

She swallowed painfully. "I…" she stuttered. Hermione handed her a bouquet of flowers, and when Ginny looked at her, she saw that there were tears in her eyes. Her own felt dry… she wasn't sure she could blink without starting to cry, so she restrained from it, and her eye sockets felt like deserts populated with tiredness as they sagged from lack of sleep. What was she doing? Why was she doing this? She couldn't do it. No. Not now. Not with Draco in her life. No.

It all swept over her then in a violent blast of terror. "No," she croaked, backing away from the door and dropping the bouquet. "No, I'm not ready. I can't get married. I'm too young. I'm too young, and I…" She blinked, and her eyes stung. "I love him." Only Hermione knew what she was talking about. She could hear the woman give a sad sniff beside her.

"What do you mean, Ginny?" her father questioned, sounding anxious. "Why can't you…?"

And the door opened. There was music wafting in, and her father was looking nervously around with his arm outstretched so he could take her and lead her outside and down the isle. "Ginny," he cooed, his face pink, "let's go."

Hermione was shaking as her fingers clutched Ginny's shoulders and nudged her gently toward the door and her waiting father. "Go on, Ginny. You need to forget about him," she whispered sweetly into her ear. Ginny took her father's arm as though possessed. She took several steps with him out the door while feeling nothing like herself—like she was somebody else in this body moving stiffly toward the rows and rows of chairs. She could see Ron beside Harry, gazing at Hermione and Ginny with a sappy smile on his face. She could see George, his eyes bright, and his grin prominent. She could see Percy, his glasses glinting in the sunlight as his face went pink with excitement. She could see Charlie, his smile soft as he watched her walk. Her eyes fell, then, upon Bill and Fleur. Tiny Victoire snuggled adorably in Bill's thick arms. He was beaming, and Fleur was, too. They were such a happy family. They were so in love, and they were so happy. That was what she wanted—that kind of love, and that kind of family.

As she drew closer to the crowd, she half expected to be made fun of. But no one was making fun of her, now. No one was laughing, or teasing, or smirking. This was her day. This was the day she had always dreamed of… and she had never been as regretful as she was then, nor as guilty.

"No," she said again, letting go of her father's arm as her eyes fell on Harry, who looked so perfect in his dress robes. His beam faded as she looked at him with painful determination. "No," she stated more loudly, so that the whole crowd looked at her. They wore curious expressions as though to question her sanity, but she suddenly found she didn't care. This was wrong. This marriage was wrong, if she did not love Harry anymore, wasn't it? She flew to his side in an instant, dropping her bouquet, and leaving her father to stand stunned in the middle of the isle where she left him. "Stop," she told the little wizard who was marrying them as he opened his mouth to speak. "Just let me… Harry, I… I love you," she said quietly. His face held no smile, and his eyes were dark. "I do," she confirmed, "but… I can't marry you. I'm sorry."

Her heart must have stopped, surely, as her entire body suddenly flooded with cold shame. Harry's soft eyes were wet, and his body was heaving as his breath grew deep and difficult. He seemed speechless.

"Some day," she whispered to him, suddenly extremely aware of all the eyes on them, "maybe, but not today. Not now." Her mind felt numb. "I'm sorry."

The entire crowd was eerily silent. She could hear her heart beating and her blood pumping… hear every hurt breath Harry let escape him. His brow was low, and creased with shock, pain, and disbelief. He did not deserve this. He was so wonderful… he did not deserve what she was doing to him. It was unlike her to be so cruel, but it felt like it made sense to her. Still, she was couldn't help being confused again. Her heart was swelling powerfully for Harry, for that agonizing expression was burning into her like a hot poker to her throbbing temples. She turned away from him as he stood motionless there, his green eyes starting to blind her with how fantastically bright they were. Or was that glow within them all in her mind? She was unsure. She was unsure of everything. That was why to leave him before she made a terrible mistake was the best thing for him, even if he didn't know it. That was what she told herself as she forced her emotional stare away from him. She turned to walk back down the isle, and through the speechless crowd. They all seemed to be holding their breath. She kept her gaze ashamedly at the ground, until an angry hiss from Ron sounded from behind her:

"What is _he_ doing here?"

She heard Hermione give a little moan of horror. Looking up, straight ahead, right over her father's shoulder, she felt suddenly weak. A cold iron clamp was crushing her ribs, it seemed, and she could not breathe. She was surely hallucinating, she assumed.

But her fears were confirmed by the heads that turned to face the proud-postured man standing at the back of the scene. There was a smug look on his face as he smiled at her, his hands buried lazily in the pockets of his robes. The sunlight danced teasingly across his blonde head, making him shine like a pale jewel as he glared knowingly at her. Her eyes were caught firmly by his, and they stood hooked that way for several moments before…

"Get _out_ of here, _Malfoy_," Harry shouted, his voice compressed with choked back tears. It pained Ginny to hear it, but Draco just smirked.

"Make me, Potter," he drawled, and she heard Hermione let out a groan of despair, as she was now the only outsider who understood the full horror of this situation. Her own blood was on fire to be standing here in her wedding dress robes, between Harry and Draco, while her entire family and all of her friends looked on. She was beyond awkwardness and embarrassment, now; she had already reached a heartrending state of sheer terror.

"Get OUT," Harry shouted. There were little yelps from the crowd, and Ginny spun to look at him. He looked wild with rage, his face scarlet and his green eyes sparkling as he drew out his wand. She couldn't say she blamed him for reacting this way, however, for she could hardly imagine how he must be feeling: He had just been denied the wedding he deserved, and there his enemy appeared before him, taunting him, while the girl of his dreams walked away from her, still in her wedding dress robes. "You aren't welcome here, Malfoy—not now, and not ever."

Draco's smirk grew wider, his eyes malicious. Ginny's pulse was racing dangerously fast as she watched him spread his arms wide as though inviting Harry to curse him. She glanced anxiously between them, her eyes flitting between Harry, who bore amazing resemblance to a winded bull, and Draco who looked unsettlingly calm with his arms raised. "Do your worst, Potter," he teased, but Harry did nothing. After several moments of tension between the two men, Draco spoke again, smirking still. "And that," he stated cruelly, nodding his head at Ginny, "is really for her to decide."

"_What_?" Harry snarled.

"Whether or not I am welcome here, is really up to your bride… or… well… I should say now, your _ex_-bride."

Harry was absolutely livid. Ginny's whole body was tense, every limb aching, and every nerve shooting agony through her. Everyone's eyes were on her. She was panting, so scared, so confused, so lost…

There was a shuffling sound as Hermione made her way toward Ginny to stand beside her. With her arm consolingly around her shoulder, she didn't feel any more confident, though she did appreciate the gesture. She heard Ron groan Hermione's name is exasperation, as though it would call her back to him. But Hermione stayed beside Ginny, staring determinedly at Draco like it would make him vanish if she did so.

"Mr. Malfoy," said Ginny's father in a low voice, "you have no business here. I don't believe you were invited, so please leave… now."

As expected, he did not leave. He lowered his arms, instead, glaring intently at Mr. Weasley with a nasty smile on his face. "As it is, _sir_," he sneered, "I _do_ have business here… with your daughter."

"What do you want with her?" piped up a teary Mrs. Weasley. Ginny groaned, knowing Draco was_ just_ cruel enough to actually say it. Her heart had never been closer to the edge than it was in that instant.

He gave her a very twisted grin. "Well, Mrs. Weasley," he said lazily, a repressed chuckle evident in his tone and on his face, "I am in love with her."

Ginny was unfeeling. It was too unreal. It couldn't be happening.

Hermione gave a squeak beside her, squeezing her more tightly—which was lucky, as Ginny's knees were so weak that she would have otherwise collapsed.

Ron made an obvious gagging sound, and many others in her family rose to their feet as though to protest his statement. "You're…_what_?" Mr. Weasley choked, sounding disgusted. He did, in fact, look rather ill. Harry looked far worse. His face was contorted with fury, and he looked green, like he was going to be sick. She wanted so to say something…_ anything_… to appease the horror plain on Harry's face, but she felt that if she opened her mouth, she might vomit.

"I love her," Draco stated again, confirming it. His silver eyes were gleaming. Hermione's arm began to shake around her. Ginny knew she must be struggling with the same thoughts that she was: Should she be flattered by how unusually _romantic_ he was being in saying it so outright and unashamedly, or should she be furious with him for doing so when he _knew_ her family would never accept it?

At the moment, however, all she could think of was Harry, and how he must be feeling. She felt queasy to look at him, so she kept her eyes fixed steadily on Draco, who looked right back at her, his smile cruel, but seductive. The silence was so intense, that for a moment, Ginny forgot where she was, and forgot there were other people around them. The corners of her lips twitched as though to smile at him, and her eyes were already bright with desire for him once again.

Then Ron's horrified voice brought her back to Earth. "But she would _never_ love _you_! Never in a million years! You're wasting your time, Malfoy, so just _go away_!"

Draco's eyes did not leave Ginny's as he whispered, "Wasting my time, am I?" His voice was low and silky, and despite how quietly he uttered the words, they were heard easily over the silent scene. One of his arms rose in front of him, reaching out toward Ginny with an open palm as though to invite her to take his hand. She stared at it, remembering everything—every blissful touch she'd experienced from those hands, and every drop of her own blood spilt because of them. She gave an involuntary shudder of pleasure as she remembered it all, and she didn't even realize how fast and heavily she was panting. It was like she was moving all on her own… like she had no will, and no thoughts to tell her otherwise as she moved toward him, slipping out from beneath Hermione's comforting arm. She heard her friend sniff behind her as she stepped toward Draco. Her walking was slow and shaky, like a child doing it for the first time. Her hands quivered unwillingly, but they seemed to move by themselves, on instinct, as she reached out, and slid her palm into his. She barely heard Harry's cry of madness, Hermione's emotional sob, or the disgusted noises emitted from random members of her family… All she knew, at that moment, was how warm it felt to have Draco closing his fingers around her hand, and how perfect he was even with all his stupid imperfections.

He dragged her slowly into a tight embrace. Harry's and her brothers' shouts were echoing strangely in the back of her mind, but she did not hear their specific words. She could hear Draco's heartbeat—slow and unfazed by the sudden uproar around them—and that was all that mattered, then: that sweet, savory rhythm that drummed calmingly against her as she held him close. Who cared what they thought? What did it matter if her family disapproved, _really_? And as sorry as she felt for Harry, wouldn't staying with him while she really wanted Draco only hurt him more? Wasn't love supposed to come first? Above everything else in life?

A jet of red light shot toward them where they stood, still embracing one another lovingly, and screams from the crowd permeated the air as they all leapt and scampered. Ginny felt herself pulled sideways as Draco dodged the curse. She could hear her mother weeping, and hear Ron shouting furious insults at Draco, but the sound of Harry yelling over every other noise, "STUPEFY!" was what reached Ginny's numb mind clearest of all. She gave a tiny squeak in Draco's arms, and he tightened his hold on her.

And then, all at once, Ginny was being pulled violently into the swirling, suffocating darkness of nowhere as Draco disapparated, and she clung to him—glad to be safe again in the arms of the man she loved.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading, now please REVIEW!! 


	17. Let The Bad Times Roll

**A/N:** WHOA BOY. MORE DRAMA. This chapter took a while because I REALLY didn't know how I wanted it, or how it was going, or exactly what I wanted people to say. This is my final draft of it, but I'm STILL not so happy with it. Wah. Ah, well, I'll get over it, I suppose. I'm already working on the next chapter, and--already--it's giving me issues. It's getting too fluffy now. I suppose y'all like that, don't you? Lol, okay, so there will be some fluff for a while... but don't worry, there's TONS of angst and drama to come. Oh, and I'm SO sorry for how short this one is, and for the continuous cliffhangers, but I don't _mean_ to make it that way! It's just... well... disapparating is an excellent way to end a chapter!! It's so useful!! They leave, so you can stop writing! It's like, oh yay! How conveniant! XD Lol, anyway. Yes. So here it is: chapter senventeen. Arrrg, and even as I reread it again and again... I STILL hate the chapter, but I STILL can't figure out WHY, so I'm just gonna get over myself and submit it. Oy gevalt.

ENJOY!!!

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Ginny took a deep breath of fresh air. Draco's arms were warm and protective around her as she felt their feet hit solid ground again. Glancing quickly around, her heart sank. "Oh, gee, very smart, Draco, taking us too _your manor_." 

Draco sneered. "What can I say? It was the first place I thought of. Besides, where else is there that you could go permanently?"

"_Permanently_?" Ginny hissed.

He looked at her pointedly. "Do you really think you'll be going back to your family any time soon?"

She was silent. Was it going to hit her now, what she had done? She held her breath, feeling like she should be guiltier than she was. Talking over her thoughts, she said, "I could always rent a room some place… like the Leaky Cauldron, or the Hogs Head, or…"

"Don't you think they'll look for you in those places?"

"God, I hate that being with you means being on the run."

"It doesn't have to," he smirked. "My manor is quite large, Ginny, and my father and mother don't even have to know you're in there…"

"Oh please," she sighed. "Y'know, it's really not fair that you just waltzed into my wedding and announced in front of everyone I know that we're in love."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked, his voice low and oddly suggestive. "Didn't you want love to conquer all, or whatever nonsense?"

She groaned irritably. "NO! Well… I mean… yes, I suppose, but… Ugh, why are you so dense? They will never let me back into their lives because of what you did! I ended the wedding anyway, you couldn't have… I don't know… just…. not said all that? Maybe waited until _I_ felt it was a good time?"

"So you'd rather be back there right now where you've got no friends at the moment, is that it?"

"I'd still have friends!" she cried defiantly. "Hermione knew about us, and she was still my friend!"

"What?" he spat. "The _mudblood_ knew about us?"

"Don't call her that!"

"You never told me someone knew," he growled.

"Yeah, well, you never told me you were going to let my entire family know!" She placed her hands formidably on her hips, feeling the soft fabric of her white wedding robes. "You're so self-absorbed, Malfoy," she snarled, not even realizing her use of his last name. "You don't care if my entire family knows and hates me for it, but you'd never tell _your_ parents about us, I bet."

The corner of his upper lip twitched, and his eyes narrowed. "What would that prove, _Weasley_, except how truly cruel my father can be?"

"Well, it would prove that you really did love me," she said. The words sounded ridiculous the minute she said them, and she suddenly regretted them thoroughly. "I mean… if you were trying to show that love conquers all, like you said, then wouldn't you… y'know… risk telling your family too? I mean, wouldn't surviving that really prove what love can withstand?"

He glared at her. "You sound like Dumbledore."

"Yeah, well, somebody's got to," she said angrily, crossing her arms at her chest, "seeing as he's _dead_."

Draco's face went suddenly slack. "Yes," he said quietly, sounding unnervingly dangerous. "I remember, _thank you_." His right hand traveled subtly to his left forearm, and clutched the place she knew the Dark Mark was still etched.

Ginny glanced away from him as she realized how accusatory she had sounded. She opened her mouth to apologize to him, but as a horrible sight met her eyes, she felt suddenly chilled even in the warm August sun. "Oh god," she breathed. "Oh god… Draco…" She pulled away from him, backing away, her eyes wide and her skin drained of color. Draco spun to see what she saw, and his response couldn't be more than different than Ginny's.

He gave a small bow, his eyes diverted to the ground as he did so, and when he straightened up again he said politely, "Father. Mother." The tall man who looked so like Draco had no expression on his face as he stared down his son. Draco's mother's eyes were popping, however, and her nostrils flared with horror. She looked rather like a deranged beast in a first class woman's clothes. _Now_ Ginny regretted it. _Now_ she regretted going with Draco… now, as her eyes fell on his father.

Lucius Malfoy was the embodiment of creepy as he stood there glaring madly at his son, his eyes so icily cold, and she felt unable to move for the fear that had gripped her like a chilling fist. His eyes were the exact same shade of hypnotic silver as Draco's, and his hair the same dazzling blonde, but there was something purely terrifying about his handsome features that Draco's similarly perfect face did not hold. She shivered as she gazed at him, and wondered how on earth Draco was ever able to stare down his father that way.

"Father," Draco said, sounding impressively brave. He turned to Ginny with his hand outstretched for her to take it, and she saw the same manic glint in his eye that Lucius Malfoy always seemed to have. She was frightened by the look on his face, but took his hand cautiously anyway. He pulled her forward to stand beside him where he was facing his father. He wasn't about to do it… not now… not so soon, after… was he? He _wouldn't_.

But she was underestimating him for the second time that day. He looked pained as he gave a great sigh, and said directly to the taller man, "Father, I'm sure you remember Ginevra Weasley." Her heart was hammering as Lucius turned his piercing eyes on her. As her eyes met his, she felt she was staring danger in the face. Never had one's eyes been that cold.

"Of course," Lucius Malfoy snarled. Ginny said nothing. She tried to mold her face into an impressive expression, but her fear was choking that ability. A moment later, he turned back to his son. "What is this?" he hissed madly. "What business do you have that would require a _Weasley_ to enter our property?"

Ginny glanced up at Draco, knowing what he was going to say before he said it. Regret was overwhelming her, at that moment. She should never have told him that it would prove anything. She should have left it alone, and said that it was fine if his parents didn't know. She watched Draco swallow, and open his mouth nervously, though his expression was firm and set. She clutched his hand behind his back, ignoring the catlike sounds of disgust Narcissa Malfoy was emitting as she noticed this. Draco's chest was pounding fast, and his fingers were shaking in hers. She felt so strange to be this close to such dangerous people and their son, who she loved, and who was terrified of them. It had never occurred to her until that moment, just how intimidated Draco was by his own parents. She could feel his pulse racing in his palm as she squeezed his hand tightly, and it scared her. She bit her lip, waiting for his words she knew he would say that would tear him ruthlessly from his own family…

"Father," he said quietly, "she is the reason I broke off my engagement."

No, no, no. That was a bad way of putting it. That sounded like she was fault of the fight they'd had… and that thought would certainly not make him happy. She was already bracing herself for the blows to come, for the insults to start coming, but they didn't. Lucius Malfoy stayed silent, glaring still upon Draco's placid expression as he continued. "She is the reason for a lot of things," he said. Ginny looked at him. He looked like he had no idea what to say. His lips trembled with uncertainty, and just as he looked like he was going to speak again, Mr. Malfoy cut him off.

"The reason for… _what_?" he snarled. The man was heaving now, looking wild. Narcissa Malfoy, who looked rather winded herself, had her hand her husband's shoulder as though to calm him. It seemed to be doing nothing. There was an ineffable fire in Lucius Malfoy's eyes as he stared down his son, and she knew it was only from the sight of them together. She could not understand this rage… this bigotry that both their families held against one another… she simply couldn't fathom its reality, not even as she watched Lucius Malfoy's teeth bare, and his eyebrows rise maniacally. "For _what_, Draco?"

Draco pulled her hand from behind his back, and Lucius' eyes flitted to their clutched fists. Ginny looked down at them too, and she saw that Draco's knuckles were white against the back of her hand. She almost wanted to snatch her hand back from his under Lucius Malfoy's scalding gaze, but as Draco's grasp was cutting off her circulation, it was rather difficult to do so. "Well, father," he said in an unnervingly low voice, "I suppose she's the reason I've been so distant recently, and the reason I feel so far from you and your outlook on blood and money."

This was all wrong, Ginny couldn't help thinking. This was too serious. This was too soon. She wanted to get away… to escape Lucius Malfoy's glare, to take Draco away from here, and to leave with him… leave with him forever, and not look back on the bigotry of his ridiculous family. _Why_ did Draco have to apparate here, first… _why_? Why to the place where he knew his hateful family resided? _Why_?

"And…" Draco stuttered, his expression full of such wary confusion that it pained Ginny to witness it, "…well, father… I love her." His tone was impressively steady and calm, although his eyes still held pain, and his mouth was still quivering with frightened determination.

"You… _love_ her, do you?" Lucius Malfoy glowered. He had never looked so threateningly calm in her memory. Her mind suddenly took her to way back Flourish and Blotts, and she was eleven years old again. She was standing beside a twelve year old Harry, and glaring straight into the angry eyes of Draco. When Lucius Malfoy had approached, his eyes had been wicked even then, but they were hardly as fearsome as they were now, looking at his son with the utmost dislike. "How could you possibly know what love is?"

"How could _you_, father?" Draco asked calmly, his nails now digging into Ginny's hand. She bit her lip hard, and squeezed his hand back in an attempt to console him.

"How _dare_ you," Narcissa Malfoy spat at her son, "question your own father that way?"

Draco's eyes narrowed further, and though he spoke to his mother now, he did not look away from Lucius' furious expression. "How could I _not_ question him, mother, when everything he's ever done has only led us wrong? How could I _possibly_ not question him?" Ginny was surprised Lucius had not exploded. She was growing more terrified by the second watching him expand like a great, livid balloon of madness, ready to burst.

It happened before Ginny could even realize that it had. The sound was what brought her to the reality of the fact, the echoing _smack_ that seemed to permeate the garden like smoke. The whole world was then frighteningly silent, like the insects and birds had stopped their hums and chirps just to pay respect to the intimidating Lucius Malfoy. The man stood quite stiff, his hand lowering back to his side slowly.

Draco was rigid. Blood was dripping down Ginny's hand as he forced his fingernails into her skin. She let out the tiniest squeak of pain, but did not dare make any more noticeable reaction. Draco lowered his head solemnly, his eyes closed as he licked his lips, trying to keep himself calm. Looking up at him, she could see the angry red mark developing on his cheek where his father had just hit him. His breathing was shallow, and hers too was very ragged as her fear mounted still higher. She wanted so tell off Lucius Malfoy, to hit him right back, to defend Draco's well-being, but there was nothing she could have done. She was dealing with a man who wouldn't even _hesitate_ to use the Cruciatus curse on her.

A hollow laugh escaped Draco as he glanced back up at his father. "If you and mother ever really _loved_ each other," he said, his lips contorted in a nasty grin, "then I'm not a Malfoy."

"You're hardly one at all, as it is, to love a _Weasley_," Mr. Malfoy spat, glancing furiously at Ginny, who cowered.

"Love is beyond names, father," Draco hissed, his grin suddenly gone, and his tone gavely serious. "Love is beyond names, beyond class, beyond blood… It was Ginny who taught me all that, and I really think she's right, father." He let go of Ginny hand shakily, and took a step toward his father. Ginny's heart was on the brink of an overload of love and terror… the challenging look in Draco's expression as he stood right in his father's face horrified her, knowing that Lucius wouldn't stand for it. "I love her," he whispered, "and if you don't accept that, then I'll just leave, and don't expect me to be coming back."

Lucius' hand was around Draco's neck so quickly that Ginny didn't even see the motion. This was going too far. This was not fair. He did not deserve this. No one did. Ginny gave a little scream of "No, stop it!" but the older man did not loosen his grip. Draco was choking and spluttering, though still his face was twisted in an eerily defiant smirk as he glared at his father. His long, thin fingers were clawing at those of the older man as though to force him off, but it was not working. Narcissa Malfoy was moaning in anguish, backing away in horror and covering her face with her hands, while Ginny searched frantically through her dress robes for her wand. "Stop it!" she cried again, her fingers closing at last around the thin stick of wood. Just as she whipped it out, however, she found that Lucius Malfoy's wand was already was already in the air, pointed straight at her.

"Don't even try, girl," he hissed. Ginny lowered her arm shakily, glaring filthily at the father of the man she loved. "Good choice, Miss _Weasley_," he spat. "But _you_…" he said, turning to his son who was gripped so tightly in his palm, "…_Your_ choices are regrettable, Draco." Ginny's eyes flitted back and forth between the wand tip pointed at her pounding heart, and the fingers tightening around Draco's throat even as she watched. She let out a horrified moan.

"No," she squealed. "Please, Mr. Malfoy, stop it!"

"Expelliarmus," he said lazily, and Ginny's wand flew from her hand and into Lucius Malfoy's. He held it tightly in his fist with his own wand, while his other hand continued to choke his son.

"Please, stop," Ginny cried, tears actually starting to trickle down her face. "You would really do this to your own son?"

The man sneered viciously. "He is no son of _mine_," he spat, before finally releasing Draco from his grasp roughly, shoving him away from himself. Draco stumbled backward, gasping desperately for breath, and Ginny ran to his side, keeping him on his feet. Narcissa was in tears, gazing at her son with desperate apologies shining in her eyes as he seethed breathlessly. "Not if he will choose to love such scum," Lucius Malfoy added threateningly.

"I… didn't… choose it," Draco panted through bared teeth as he massaged his obviously sore neck. "It just… happened."

Lucius simply glared at him, clearly not taking in a word of what Draco said. "You are not my son anymore if you will really leave us for a blood-traitor."

"I'll leave you for _love_," Draco spat, his eyes blazing with such fury that it chilled Ginny to look at him. "I would do it in a heart beat, just as I would always defend your honor, _father_."

"If you wish to defend my honor, then _disgracing_ your entire family tree by running off with a blood-traitor is not the way, _Draco_!"

"I have been defending you and your filthy reputation all my life!" Draco said hurriedly, his voice rising with his obvious temper. "And now I want to do something on my _own_, for a change, and if doing it means abandoning you and our family, then I will do what I have to." His eyes fell on his mother, who looked weak. "I'm sorry, mother," he sighed, and to Ginny's surprise, his voice shook slightly. "I just can't stay here anymore, not if father is really…"

"You will _not _speak about me as though I was not present! If you have to speak about me, you will speak _to_ me, is that understood?" Lucius cried, looking completely insane, now. His eyes were popping madly, and his expression was crazed.

Draco shook his head as he looked back at him. "_You _are the disgrace, father," he said contemptuously, "not me. You _sicken_ me." And at that, he spat at his father's feet. Lucius Malfoy took a step backward in horror and shock. Ginny could assume that he had never—_ever_—been spoken down to like that. An involuntary proud smile began tugging at her lips. She had never wanted it to go this far, but an overwhelming pride in Draco's bravery was swelling inside of her, especially as Draco raised his own wand and said calmly, "Expelliarmus," so that Ginny's wand flew to him, and he handed it back to her. Her tentative smile became a broad grin as Draco swiftly turned his back on his father, and took Ginny's arm to lead her away.

The warmth she felt inside at his defense of her became suddenly an intense fire in her heart as he held her close, right before his parents' eyes, and disapparated.

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**A/N:** Oh yay, thank you so much for reading!!! Much appreciated!! I'll appreciate it much more if you review, though!! hee hee. THNAKS SO MUCH!! 


	18. Soul Meets Body

**A/N:** Sorry it took so unusually long for the update on this story. As it gets closer and closer to September, I'm being forced to work more and more on my portfolio (I'm crossing my fingers that I can go to an art college!!), and on all my stupid college essays. Oy gevalt. It's really quite nerve-wracking, the closer it gets to the start of school. 'Cause you realize once school starts... I become a senior... and everything I do in this coming year will be my last EVER in my school. Senior year is the saddest, I think, but also probably it's gonna be the most exciting. Yay! I will admit, I am excited for it to happen. Hee hee. Oh, right, story... ANYWAY, this chapter's horrifyingly and annoyingly short, yes, and for that I apologize, but--like I said--things are gonna take slightly longer now, what with senior year so close (EEK!!). Oh, high school. How I shall miss you.

Okay, well, anyway, this chapter was almost sickeningly fluffy for me to write, but don't worry... rough sex and angst (oh boy, angst) are coming up!! Never fear!! So please, enjoy the chapter!!

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Draco's neck was already bruising when they had apparated into the lobby of a hotel Ginny had never seen before. It was fancily decorated, with old paintings and sculptures adding to the high-class aura. Ginny felt very out of place. "Uh, Draco," she said tentatively. "Why here? And… where is here?" 

"Here is a first class wizarding hotel in France that my mother and I once stayed in while on vacation."

"We're in France?" Ginny asked incredulously, her eyes wide.

"Yes. No one will think to find you here, will they?"

No, she supposed not. It didn't make her feel any better. Her stomach was churning with anxiety. She gazed up at Draco, her eyes narrowed at the welts developing at his throat. "You are a complete idiot," she said quietly, reaching up to caress the marks.

His smile was slight, and his voice pained as he said, "Am I?"

"Yes, you are," she told him. "I can't believe you'd do that. You _knew_ your father would react badly. Why would you ever do something so incredibly stupid?"

Draco shrugged. "Love," was his simple, monotonous answer.

She gave a sighing laugh. "Now _you're_ starting to sound like Dumbledore."

He smiled softly. "Well, that's ironic," he said with a slight chuckle. His eyes told her he was sinking into his memories of the night Dumbledore died, but she took his hand in hers to comfort him.

"_You_ did _not _kill Dumbledore," she said firmly, her expression kind and understanding.

"I as good as did," he croaked, looking away from her. She gave a restless sigh, not bothering to respond to his self-pity this time. "Let's just get us a room, shall we?" he said quickly, changing the painful subject.

The man behind the counter—who had originally tried to greet them in French until Draco informed him they were from England—came to the immediate assumption that they desired a honeymoon suite as he took in Ginny's wedding dress robes. Draco did not attempt to correct the man, actually putting his arm around Ginny with a suggestive smile as though to confirm it. When they had signed in, paid, and been given their keys, Ginny turned to him. "You are such a conniving little son of a Death Eater."

Even Draco couldn't help chuckle at that. "Well, we might as well get the best out of the situation, mightn't we?"

She shrugged, smiling widely at him as he stuck the key in the lock. "I guess," she said with a laugh. "I just think it's a little unnecessary for you to have…" She stopped as she crossed the threshold. Her mouth had fallen open in awe, and words escaped her. The suite was beautiful, she thought. She was breathless as she looked around, for never had she stayed in any place quite as magnificent as this, not counting Hogwarts. She felt _inferior_ to a place like this, so wide and spacious, a place with so much light and air. It was filled with a soft breeze, making the long, translucent curtains flutter slightly. The floor of the room was adorned in a soft peach rug that was drenched in the sunlight surging through the wide glass doors to the balcony. There was a quiet, comfortable hush about the suite, like a hovering and almost palpable whisper of romance was lingering throughout it. She supposed it was the magic of a first class wizarding honeymoon suite, but still it took her breath away. White candles floating close to the ceiling seemed to emanate pure seduction.

Draco laughed, bringing her sharply back to Earth again. "So," he said softly, shutting the door behind them as his hand crept not-so-subtly down her spine, "what were you saying, again?" His fingers were trailing delicately over her backside, and she quivered rather violently under his suggestive touch.

Leaning into his hands, she sighed. "Um… wha—_what_?" she breathed, closing her eyes gently, not understanding his words. She was too lost in the powerful magic of the suite, clearly made to create the perfect romantic atmosphere, and filled with the obvious power to seduce. "I…"

He turned her, slowly, to face him. Her heart raced madly, but the world seemed to spin unnaturally slowly as he bent his head, and kissed her. His lips felt softer and tasted much sweeter than she remembered after the long period of estrangement from them. After everything she'd heard Draco say to his father, he had become even more desirable to her. Her arms slid sweetly around his neck, drawing him closer to her. His fingertips appeared to be on fire as they so gently caressed her cheeks, and she pressed herself against him longingly. He walked her backward, his hands moving down from her face and to her neck and shoulders. Her steps were unsteady as she could not see her path, but he guided her further into the sitting room, until her calves collided with something soft: a fancy, low couch. He lay her sweetly down upon the soft, white fabric of the sofa, and crawled slowly atop her, prolonging her suffering as she groaned for his touch.

His hands slid up her body, lifting her dress robes, peeling them away from her. Her heart pumped scorching blood through her veins at the feel of his intimate embrace, and its beat was so heavy beneath her chest that it made her entire body throb with need. The dress robes came off over her head, and her undergarments were gone seconds later. Ginny slipped Draco's robes from around his shoulders, and undid his shirt. They stopped for a moment, simply looking at each other. Ginny took the silence to wonder about Draco. He had really told off his father for the sake of his love for her… he had really allowed himself to be choked, because he loved her. She smiled widely, feeling the warmth of these truths wash over her in a gust of pride and adoration.

"What?" he asked her curiously, smirking at her loving gaze. She shrugged and shook her head, emitting a faint giggle as she nuzzled into the nape of Draco's neck. She inhaled deeply, taking in his distinct smell, feeling the softness of his pale skin, and hearing his rough breathing above her. Ginny planted a soft kiss on his throat, letting her lips linger lovingly on the bruises left by his father's hand. He tensed up around her, but she slid her fingers in his hair, pressing him closer, and kissing his injured throat and jaw deeply as though they were his mouth. When he had begun to shiver around her, and she could hear him groaning with want, she let him go. His entire body was pulsing over her, moving up and down with every intensely deep breath. She narrowed her eyes suggestively at him, and he smirked, licking his lips.

Ginny leaned her face up to meet his, and their mouths connected, fitting perfectly together, like this was what they were made to do. The heat between them rose, and she could feel him shifting as he undid and removed the clothing that remained on his lower half. She moaned greedily through a mouthful of his warm tongue, her lips pressing into a smile against his. Draco's hips touched hers lightly, and she shuddered at the delicate contact. She wanted more.

A second later, she got her wish. When Draco entered her, he was deliberately slow, moving calmly above her, breathing shallowly into her mouth with every unhurried stroke he took. It drove her wild. Slow was agonizingly pleasurable, she realized. It was like every one of her senses was heightened; she could smell, taste, and feel everything that was Draco, above her, against her, and inside of her. She was surely going to explode with too much feeling, and _oh_, she thought, there couldn't possibly be a better way to die.

With her hands around his back, and his caressing her face, Draco made love to Ginny for the first time. For this was something entirely new… something completely unheard of to pass between the two of them. There was love in every slow, sweet motion, and Draco did not try to hurt her, nor did she beg him to, this time. This time, for the first time, they simply relished in the overpowering love they shared. She had never felt so close to anyone before, or as deep in any emotion as she was in love with him. "Draco," she sighed breathlessly against him as their lips separated for a moment. He wore his usual sneer upon his face, but something so tender had possessed his expression that she was overcome with feeling, and reached pure ecstasy around him. He buried his face into her shoulder as he gave an almost painful-sounding grunt of pleasure, and peaked as well.

He collapsed weakly on top of her, not removing himself from between Ginny's legs. His fingers were trailing across her collarbone gently, and her eyes were closed to the sweet sensations washing over her. "I will never understand you Draco," she breathed feebly, a contented smile on her face as she let her hands remain relaxed upon his back. "I'll never understand you, or why I love you so much." He sighed against her, and she felt his muscles contort as he rose and fell with the breath. "I still can't believe you said those things to your father." Draco went stiff around her with anxiety as they returned to the topic of his father, but still he said nothing. "Tell me, Draco, what he did to you when you were eight."

At this, he rolled from over her, avoiding her gaze as he sat beside her where she lay, his elbows on his knees. He looked extremely tense, but he took a deep breath as he sat there, as though to speak. She waited, watching him intently. Nothing happened, except that his lips parted slightly, but no words fell from them. She sighed, letting her eyes travel over his nude form. He was so beautiful. Scrutinizing him so closely, she noticed every detail of his skin. He had his imperfections, as everyone does, but even those she loved. She loved the almost invisible thin white scars that decorated his stomach and back that had resulted from the Sectumsempra curse he had endured in his sixth year, and she loved even the thick, grotesque skull and snake burned into his forearm. His body expanded with another breath, and her eyes flitted back up to his face, hoping he would speak. "When I was eight," he said quietly, his voice deathly serious, "I told my father that his ideas about blood didn't make much sense. I told him I didn't get it, and that I thought he was wrong." She held her breath, wanting him to go on. "Well, obviously he went mad. He didn't do anything particularly horrible, I mean, it wasn't anything I didn't deserve, but it scared me. I was young, I didn't get it. Parents hurt their kids, it's what they do, but I was young, and I just didn't realize." He stopped to swallow nervously, and run his fingers through his silken hair. "He… he threw me to the ground, and he… he took out his wand. He cut open my arm, where _this_ was later burned," he spat, glaring at the Dark Mark as he clenched his left arm. "He showed me his mark, and bellowed a whole lot of stuff that didn't make sense at the time. I was crying, and bleeding, and I didn't hear much of what he said, but he was going on about how ungrateful I was and all that, you know. He told me to apologize, and told me to tell him I deserved punishment like the mudbloods if I was going to become a blood-traitor. I didn't say anything right away, because I was crying, so he hit me… And I just kept crying, and he just kept hitting me, and finally I tried to get away, but he pointed his wand at me, and I was chained up, and couldn't leave. He told me again to apologize and to tell him I would never be a blood-traitor, but I was in a lot of pain, and still didn't say anything. So he left me there, on the floor, in chains, for hours until I fell unconscious from loss of blood. When my mother came in several hours later to heal me, she told me I should just apologize, and agree with him. She told me it was best, and that he really was right, even if I didn't understand it then. So I did."

He looked at her. His face was blank, though Ginny's was twisted in horror. Her mouth was slightly open, her lip curled in disgust, and her brow was creased in disbelief. He shrugged at her expression. "It was nothing," he said softly, "but it certainly stayed with me."

"That's not nothing, Draco," she said, sounding choked with tears. "It's not _nothing_ to mutilate your own son's arm, or to chain him up, or to attempt to strangle him. That's _not nothing_." She swung her legs around to sit upright beside him, and looked pointedly at him, even as he turned his head to the ceiling to avoid her eyes. "Draco," she said firmly, "you have no need to go back to him now. Your father has never been right about anything, and you don't deserve his horrible treatment."

"My _father_," he spat angrily, turning back to her with fury in his eyes. "My father is…" He broke off, his lips twitching.

"What?"

He sighed, staring down at his feet and rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. "I don't know. I was going to defend him."

Ginny's eyes widened with disbelief. "He doesn't deserve your defense, Draco. You need to remember that."

"This is all just so sudden," he breathed, his grey eyes squinted with fear and confusion. "I've always done what he said, and always trusted he was right. I've always defended him when people talk dirt about him, and I just… I hate that you've made me question it all. You've made me question everything about what's good and evil, and about where my loyalties really lie, and it's just not fair."

"Life isn't fair, Draco. Get over it."

"I _know_ that, Weasley," he hissed, "but knowing that doesn't make it any easier to deal with."

"You called me Weasley again," Ginny pointed out, though she didn't take the fact too deeply to heart.

Draco shrugged. "Oh. Sorry," he said awkwardly.

They sat in silence, then, for several minutes. Ginny felt strange. Suppressed guilt was eating at her chest, but she continued to swallow it down. She pretended that every time she blinked, Harry's eyes didn't haunt her. She tried to focus on Draco, but he wasn't making that easy. "What are we doing, Ginny?" he asked after a while, and her mind spiraled into confusion again.

"Um…" was all she could think to say.

"I mean," he clarified, "what kind of life are we going to have now? What happens now that we're here, and we're away from the judgment of our families?"

She sighed, guilt making her skull pound violently. "I don't know," she croaked. "I must admit, I just didn't really…"

"…Think about the future?" Draco finished for her.

"Yeah."

Draco gave a small sniff, and she looked at him. His fingers were twisting in his lap. "All I can see in my future right now," he said, looking back at her, "is you." Her heart panged. Sometimes, he barely seemed like a Malfoy. Sometimes, he was so gentle, and so caring with his words, that Ginny could barely believe that she had hated him for so many years. Her eardrums felt clogged with his so uncharacteristically romantic words, and she sighed, leaning her head upon his shoulder. She could feel the warmth of his soft flesh against her temples, and cuddled there. He let out a soft breath of amusement. "I will live to regret having done all that," he said with a laugh evident in his tone. "Some day, I will regret being with you. Some day, it'll finally occur to me that I'm becoming an idiot, but that day is not now." She smiled, listening to him talk. "Right now, you're all I have, and right now, I don't need anything else." Draco reached up, and his palm lay upon the top of her head. She closed her eyes, absorbing the feel of him beside her, trying to imagine a life with him. She could hardly picture it. She could barely even consider calling him anything resembling her "boyfriend," let alone imagine spending her entire life with him, but she loved him, and love was enough.

Love should always be enough.

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**A/N:** Thanks SO much for reading this shit!! Review, if you can! I'd appreciate it! It'll certainly encourage me to keep going with this, which will be very hard as I get busier and busier! 


	19. All That I Am, Maybe Tomorrow

**A/N:** Oh boy. The first part of this chapter was half me showing the reality of Ginny's relationship with Draco, and half me getting out my own sexual frustration. And I'm sorry if it's a little... sick... but I was in a bloodlusty mood. Yum. Ick, I'm gross, yes, I admit it. Yuck. Gross, Jessa Beth. Raawr. OH WELL.

HOPE YOU LIKE THE CHAPTERRR!!! ENJOOOY!!

(Oh, and p.s. - I am SO AMAZINGLY grateful to everyone who's been reviewing!! You've actually encouraged me to keep this story going, and I'm now on chapter NINETEEN. That's EXTREMELY new to me. Nineteen... that's one away from TWENTY, which feels HUGE to me, so THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!! 175 reviews, right now... I'm so impressed!! Thank you all!! I'll do my best to keep the story going, and it's all for your sakes! Ah, yes, and also as a p.p.s. - After this, well... the story is about to get pretty damned depressing real soon. I admit that the plot I have laid out is going to absolutely KILL most of you, though a few of you might find it satisfying. I'm doing it because I find it necessary, though, so... yes. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!)

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The next week was spent in lazy relaxation. Clothing was a rarity that neither Draco nor Ginny chose to bother with very much. Draco left the hotel only once, to buy himself some new clothes, but Ginny decided instead to merely summon some of hers from the closet she and Harry had shared. That felt lifetimes away, though it was really only several days. Her wedding dress hung, forgotten, in the walk-in closet their bedroom presented them with. Most of the time, she wore the bathrobe provided for her, for it was often that whatever she was clad in ended up ripped from her, only to lie in a torn pile beside her while Draco indulged himself in her body. They spoke not of the future anymore, for on that subject, both felt strange. 

As their second week in sweet hibernation approached, Ginny began to worry about Harry. Was he coping with losing her to his worst enemy? She wondered. But what a stupid question it seemed, when she lay awake during the night and thought it over. Of _course_ Harry wasn't coping. Knowing Harry, he'd be laying awake right then, staring apathetically at his ceiling, stewing in his loss, and not letting Ron or Hermione talk to him. That seemed the sort of thing for him to do, she thought. She imagined it, and felt sick. His eyes haunted her, looming above her in the dark bedroom like a ghost of the life she could have had. And yet, this was the life that she chose—an unsteady and unsure one, with Draco, and not with Harry.

She turned her head to watch Draco sleeping beside her on his stomach. His brow was furrowed almost angrily, and his mouth was half-open against the pillow. He never slept, she remembered, but here he was, resting at last, and looking so calm. Smiling, she snuggled next to him. His breath came in hot gusts against her face, and she wrinkled her nose in amusement as he let out a small, involuntary grunt. She sucked in her lips, struggling to restrain a laugh. He looked so bluntly human, then: vulnerable, insignificant, and flawed. She loved it. She sighed dreamily as she gazed at his closed eyelids, and they fluttered as her breath struck his lips.

His mouth twitched, and his eyes opened slightly. Peering at her through beautiful, squinted grey eyes lined with tiredness, he smirked. She gave a small laugh. "You're awake?" she whispered.

"I'm a light sleeper, when I do sleep," he responded with an indistinct shrug of his shoulders. He turned onto his side so he could move more easily, and looked pointedly at her. "But you've clearly been awake for a while," he said, his brilliantly silver eyes sparkling at her. When he looked at her like that, she felt completely bare, and naked under his gaze. She was, of course, actually naked beneath the covers of the bed, but that had nothing to do with it. His stare just broke her down. She shrugged as he glared, and turned away from him. "Why aren't you sleeping, Ginny?" he asked. "I thought _I_ was the one who didn't sleep well."

Ginny gave another shrug, and sighed. "I was just thinking too much, that's all," she admitted.

Draco's palm slinked up her side, caressing her suggestively. "What were you thinking about?" he whispered, his breath teasing her ear as he leaned in close. She shivered, wishing he hadn't asked.

"About Harry," she confessed in a choked voice. Her heart sank as she felt Draco's hand tense against her.

He was breathing deeply beside her, and she turned back to look at him. His hand fell from her. When she caught sight of his face, she saw that he looked furious. "I don't want you to say that name again," he said quietly. "Not in my presence. Not ever."

"But, Draco, I—" she began, not knowing what to say in her own defense, but she was cut off. Kicking the covers off of her, he very suddenly threw himself above her, and pinned her hands down on either side of her head. His teeth were bared madly and his eyes were blazing with anger.

"Shut up," he said sharply, grinding his hips into hers. She moaned, and all thoughts of Harry were gone. He bent forward, and let his mouth graze hers roughly, almost cruelly. His tongue embraced her bottom lip, torturing her with the taste of him. He shook her violently. "You will not speak about him," he hissed. She couldn't help the arousal creeping through her as she watched his aggressiveness above her. "Say it."

"I won't," she agreed submissively.

"Tell me that you're mine," he said, pressing his bare hips further against her own, and driving her wild. She writhed beneath him, but he did not let her go. "Tell it to me… for real, this time."

She was panting, feeling his nakedness gruffly teasing the spot between her legs. "I'm yours, Draco," she sighed earnestly.

"And tell me you love me, _Weasley_," he ordered. His lip was curled in a maliciously suggestive sneer, and his brow was low. She could see the primal lust building in his greedy expression, and knew he'd used her last name on purpose. He was trying to talk down to her, to make her submit. She understood.

"I love you, Draco," she told him, raising her eyebrows knowingly. His smirk widened, and she bit her lip in anticipation as he reached for his wand. In an instant, her wrists were bound where they were on either side of her head. Her ankles, too, were tied in place, forcing her legs to separate. She emitted what was half a giggle and half a moan, and at this, he laughed.

She strained on the confines, her whole body pulsating uncontrollably with excitement. He did not release her aching desire, however, and simply twirled his wand ominously between his fingers as he knelt above her. His eyes were shining with need, and his chest was rising and falling with his shallow breaths. She looked him up and down, her lust mounting higher at the side of his fully naked body. Still, he continued to sit there, gazing thoughtfully at her. "Please, Draco," she begged.

"I can't help but wonder," he mused quietly, his expression both desirous and hateful at the same time, "why you would be thinking about Potter now, after all this time."

Ginny felt taken aback. "Uh… well… because I'm worried about him," she breathed truthfully.

He shot her a nasty sneer, and shoved himself inside of her without the slightest warning. She gave a strangled cry of relief, and tried to writhe against him, but he kept still within her body. "Are you worried about him _now_?" he hissed madly.

"Unh… no…" she panted, her voice shrill, overflowing with the need for release. Her hands were twisting in their binds, her fingers clawing at the air like an animal. At her words, he pulled out again, leaving her shaking and empty, and still unsatisfied. "_No_, Draco," she whined, "_please_."

She was drenched in her need for him, and with her desire for him to penetrate her again, but he still held back, smirking at her. He was doing this on purpose. "Tell me you want me," he snarled.

"_I want you_!" she cried.

"Tell me that you'd do anything for me."

"_Anything_!" She was squirming wildly, and he was laughing.

"Oh, Weasley, I do so like it when you fuss like this," he whispered silkily, his hands sliding roughly up her body to tease her breasts. His mouth fell to them, and his teeth were brutal against her tender flesh there. She squealed as he bit her ruthlessly, and he gave a pitiless laugh that was more like a cackle. His fingers slipped between her thighs, and she began to spasm beneath his merciless touch. "Tell me to hurt you," he growled, the vibrations of his crazed voice passing through her every bone, and making her shudder viciously.

She moaned shamelessly, her body still struggling for release. "_Hurt me_, _Draco_," she sighed, knowing somehow that this was it… that this was going to get her what she wanted.

And of course, she was right: he slammed himself between her legs, his enormity driving her towards heavenly pleasure. She was already near to bursting, and as his hands inched to her hips to grip her, he began to thrust violently, and she began to scream. His fingernails buried deeply into her flesh there, forcing blood to pool, and he laughed at her again as her screams broke, dispersed with groans of pain. He slid his hands up her sides, smearing the blood upon her pale, freckled skin. His bloodied palms flew to her face, and gripped her tightly as he leaned in and bit her lip. She squeaked against him, trying to make him let go as the stinging pain at her hips became joined with the fresh pain on her mouth. His fingers clutched her face so firmly she thought he might be attempting to crush her skull, but they soon let go. Instead, he shoved her head roughly to the side as he let go of her lip with his teeth, which now sported faint, red stains of her blood.

He pressed his mouth to her neck, his tongue embracing her skin as he sucked at it, bruising the spot as his teeth gnashed greedily against it. It was as though he were trying to consume her, the way he clung to her. Though she couldn't see it, his knuckles were white on her shoulder and in her hair, clutching her, dragging her closer to his mouth as he drank in her essence. He was hurting her, the way she knew he wanted to, and even as she shrieked with pain at the feeling of his nails and teeth in her skin, she was elated, too. She loved the way he hurt her, and wondered if that made her quite as sick as he was. She couldn't help gasping with pleasure at the sensation of him inside her and of her own blood smudged across her body.

When his thrusts reached a height of brute strength that was too intense for her to handle, she was thrown over the edge. Her screams filled the atmosphere, a harmony to the grunts of ecstasy that were escaping him.

It took them a long time to recover, and to come down from the heaven they created. Draco's breathing was warm against her sore neck, and she smiled to feel it caress her like that. She was glad when he released her hands and feet from their restraints, but she felt too weak to move them from where they lay. Her limbs were shivering in the aftermath of the passion. "Draco," she whispered breathlessly, "you're so cruel."

"I know," he sighed calmly with a lick of her throat as they continued to lie limply where they'd collapsed. "But you already knew that." She gave a faint, weak giggle, closing her eyes as exhaustion swept over her. "So d'you think you can sleep now?" he asked, a smirk in his tone. She grinned, and took a deep breath, meaning to answer him, but the gulp of air in her lungs was so calming… so nice, so filling… so warm and soft…like her pillow. Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.

* * *

Something fantastically green was sparkling in the distance across the dark grounds of Hogwarts. She sprinted toward it. She felt a lot smaller than she usually did, and looking down, she realized that she was eleven years old. Her whine of horror sounded tiny and immature to her, but she kept running. She had to reach that shiny green something. She tripped. Stumbling face-first onto blood-soaked grass, she let out a groan. Her foot had caught on something. What was it? She reached blindly behind her: it was too dark to see what she was groping for. Her fingers closed over a damp book. Curious, she sat upright, and pulled it into her lap. When she opened it, a shriek of agony permeated the night air. The book was screaming at her. "No," she told the book. "I'm sorry. It's my fault… I really didn't mean to open you." 

"But you did!" it cried. "It is your fault! He will die, because of what you've done!"

"What…?" she asked wildly. "But… what did I do?"

"You opened my pages—you set me loose! You've given me freedom!"

"I didn't mean to! I shouldn't have!"

"No," it said, laughing a high-pitched, cold, cruel laugh that she recognized. "You should not have opened me, nor should you have opened yourself to me."

"I haven't, though!" Ginny cried. "You don't know me at all!"

It laughed again. "Oh, but I do!" the shrill voice stated gleefully. "You fed me my power by opening up to me, and now that I am able, I will kill him."

"No, please don't! Please don't kill him!" For a moment, she wondered who she was defending, but a second later, she knew. She looked up, and there was nineteen-year-old Harry, glaring at her. "Harry!" she shrieked. "I love you! Take me out of here!"

He gave her a disgusted look. "I can't save you anymore, Ginny. Not since you picked up that diary."

"What? Why not?"

"With that diary in the way, we can't ever be together," he said furiously. "Please, get rid of it Ginny."

She stood to face Harry, but she just barely came up to his chest in her eleven-year-old body. She let the diary fall from her hands, and tried to tell Harry that he would always come before some stupid book, but the thing suddenly shot up from the ground where she'd dropped it, and flew at her face. She shrieked as it attacked her. "Harry!" she screamed. "Please, Harry! Help me! Make it stop!" Her blood-streaked hands attempted to bat the diary away from her, but it didn't work. Harry was walking away. "Harry!" she cried again. "Harry, come back! Save me!" But his back was shrinking into the blackness of the grounds as he walked toward that glinting green light she was so curious about. She called after him over and over again, and when he had been swallowed up in the dark, she began to sob. The green light gave a sudden flash, and illuminated in the dazing glow was Harry. She watched his silhouette fall to its knees, then crumple—dead—to the ground. She let out a high-pitched, endless scream that pierced the night, overpowering the laughter that the book was emitting as it continued to beat her. Her scream went on, and on, and on…

"Ginny," someone's voice was calling. It sounded confused, and concerned. "Ginny—wake up."

Her eyes snapped open. The first thing she felt in this waking state was that her body was sticky and cold. After blinking a few times in the blinding sunlight streaming in, she realized that Draco's silvery eyes were gazing down at her concernedly. "What?" she asked his blurred features.

Draco was just starting to come into proper view when he responded. "You were yelling in your sleep, Ginny," he told her, sounding cautious.

"I—what? Was I?" She rubbed her eyes, yawning. "What did I say?"

"Nothing… just little yells, like you were scared." His brow was low, and creased suspiciously. "Bad dream?" he asked her, his grey eyes penetrating her mind, it seemed.

She shook her head, shrugging. "Uh… yeah," she said vaguely. "Listen, I think I'm going to go out today. I think if I stay in this place much longer, I'll suffocate." Her real reason for leaving was that she had to see that Harry was okay… she had to, now, after that nightmare.

"You might want to take a shower first, though," he said with a slight sneer. She looked down at herself. Her body was streaked in her own dry blood. She healed the wounds with a simple wave of her wand, and sat up with a groan.

"Ew," she stated, her mouth twisted in revulsion. She turned to him as he stood. "You're sick."

"Always," he said with a nod, his eyes trailing over her body. "You do look good like that, though" he said lasciviously. She made a noise of disgust, and walked stiffly to the bathroom. She could practically feel his gaze on her backside as she left him, and a pleased smile tugged at her lips as she disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Ginny let the hot water run for a while, watching it, feeling sickened by the stickiness of her own blood caking her skin. The tiled room began to fill with steam, and her thoughts began to wander, when a creak from behind her made her jump. The door had opened, and Draco stood now with his shoulder against the frame, staring lustily at her. She gave him a small laugh. "It's your fault I have to take a shower now, you realize," she told him with a giggle, shifting her hips deliberately. She knew he was staring, and she loved it. She loved this power over him.

Stepping into the shower stall, she immediately began to scrape the layers of blood from her, pretending not to hear the sound of Draco's bare feet slapping on the tiles as he approached her. "I'm glad," he said, standing beside the stall, gazing in at her excitedly. She smiled, and threw her head back to let the water soak her long hair. She could hear him groan, and knew what she was doing to him. She was proved correct when she lifted her arms to massage her scalp, only to feel Draco's strong arms slide around her waist from behind, and push her front against the shower wall.

She giggled. "Draco, stop, I have to get clean," she said, attempting and failing to sound stern.

"Oh, Ginny," he sneered, pressing his wet body into her back. "Why bother? When you're with _me_, you're only bound to get _dirty_ all over again..." She shivered, feeling the water trickling down her back between them as he started to kiss her neck.

* * *

Ginny's heart was pounding agonizingly against her ribs as she apparated outside Hermione's flat. She bit her lip, her knuckles hovering over the surface of the door, ready to knock. She felt determined to talk to her, to ask her if Harry was alright, but the tiny part of her that feared Ron's and Hermione's reactions was terrified, and it was screaming in her ear not to do it. Her thighs were aching with all that Draco had done to her that morning in the shower, and it felt strange to approach her friend while sensations of hers and Draco's violence lingered on her. In a determined attempt to ignore this, she took a deep breath, ran her free hand through her wet hair, and knocked. 

The door opened surprisingly quickly, as though Hermione had been waiting for her. She looked frantic, her hair unkempt, and her face twisted in anxiety. When she caught sight of the other woman in her doorway, Hermione's expression seemed to melt in relief, and she threw her arms around Ginny's neck. "Oh, _Ginny_!" she squealed. "Where have you _been_? Do you have _any_ idea how worried everyone has been?"

She couldn't speak. Time before living with Draco in that hotel seemed eons away, like someone else's life. But, in truth, it had only been a week. Ginny's lips could barely part, feeling so dry and cracked, so they merely split into a comfortable smile. Her hands could feel Hermione's fast-paced heartbeat through her back as she hugged her, and she felt guilty for it. "I'm sorry," was the first thing she could find the strength to say.

"Ginny," Hermione said kindly as she stepped back to let Ginny in, "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. You left Harry at the altar." Her tone was cautious, as though she were speaking to a bomb prepared to explode at a single wrong word.

"I know," Ginny agreed sadly. "I didn't mean to." She sat on the couch as Hermione raised her eyebrows at her. "I mean… I did, but… I didn't want to hurt him… y'know?"

Hermione's lips pressed together, and her eyes narrowed. "No, Ginny, I really don't." There was a pause, in which the silence buzzed madly in Ginny's guilty eardrums. "I can't understand why you would ever do that, Ginny, and I can't just let it slide. Harry certainly can't, and I hope you weren't expecting him to, because he's really…" She broke off, shaking her head at Ginny in disappointment.

Feeling tears coming to her eyes, and her heart swelling with sorrow, Ginny sniffed. "How is he?" she croaked desperately. "Is he…?"

"…Okay?" Hermione finished her question. "Is Harry _okay_? I can't believe you'd ask that. He's been mad with grief, Ginny. You really hurt him. Denial has him swearing you're under the imperious curse, but we all know he's kidding himself. I just hope he knows it, and doesn't really have his hopes up so high that you really didn't mean it." She was glaring, now, as she finally joined Ginny where she sat. "I won't deny that I'm _extremely_ disappointed in you. You've hurt your family on an enormous scale, y'know." When Ginny looked pained, Hermione shook her head. "Not because it's Malfoy," she said irritably, "but because they think you don't care about them anymore. It's true, though, that your father was absolutely beside himself that you left with a Malfoy, but I talked him into a bit of reason, and he's come to the conclusion that even hate can't always stop love. Your mother's just upset that you wouldn't tell them about how you were really feeling, and that you haven't been home to explain everything yourself. I can't blame any of them. Y'know Ron's been in an absolute rage since you left. I haven't been able to control him for the life of me. I just really hope you realize the damage you've done here, Ginny." Ginny's chin quivered, thinking of her poor father and mother, so undeserving of her neglect, and of Ron, who really must be completely wild at her departure.

She gulped. "And Harry is…?" she tried.

"…Barely himself since your betrayal," Hermione confirmed. The bluntness with which it was all being said made it so much more real. She really did betray Harry, the man she'd loved since she was eleven years old. He was destroyed, and it was all her fault.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Hermione," she sighed painfully. "I just…" She took a great, shuddering breath to control the tears threatening to overflow. "I don't think I could possibly feel sorrier. I really never wanted Harry to get hurt… I swear, I didn't."

"Well you probably should have thought of that _before_ you decided to have an affair." Hermione's arms were crossed, her back very straight, and her expression seemed to be struggling with itself, as though unsure of whether or not to be accusatory or sympathetic.

Ginny sighed miserably, feeling emotion rush to her voice as she stated, "I know."

Hermione's lips trembled, and her stiff posture finally seemed to be slackening as she said, "Oh, Ginny, what were you _thinking_? Do you _really_ love him? _Malfoy_?"

"I do," Ginny said, feeling guilty even as she said it so honestly. "And it hurts that I do, because I know that loving him is killing Harry… and my family, too." She looked anxiously up at Hermione beside her. "So… Ron's been furious, hasn't he?"

"He has been," Hermione confirmed sadly. "He gets angry at everything that anyone says, and he gets all distant, mumbling about Malfoy. He's out of control when he's like this, you know. Barely anything can calm him down, now." Something in the way she said this was suggestive of _Hermione_ being the one who ever _was _able to calm him, and her eyes were sparkling as she said it, too. Ginny couldn't help the rather grossly vivid images bursting before her eyes at the statement.

Her lips twitched. "_Barely_ anything, Hermione?"

"Yes, well… Ron can be… well… I mean, I… oh, you know what I'm talking about," Hermione hissed, an embarrassed laugh in her voice evident. Ginny grinned. For a moment, things felt like they should be: calm, relaxed, and comfortable, laughing over each other's sex lives, and over the stupid things Ron and Harry did.

"I'm sure you must be very _useful_ to him when he's raging like that," Ginny giggled, her tension easing slightly as the air seemed to lighten around the friends.

"Indeed," Hermione said dreamily, her eyes glazed over, and her lips twisted in a lustful smile. After a moment of Ginny laughing at her, Hermione shook herself back to reality, and looked stern again. Ginny's laughter died in an instant as the older woman glared at her bossily. "But seriously, Ginny, you've made Ron and the rest of your family crazy, and it's really not fair to them."

Ginny swallowed nervously, looking away from Hermione to gaze shamefully at her knees. "I know. I've made some really bad choices recently. I just… I can't understand my own thoughts anymore. This just isn't me, to do something like leaving someone at the altar for someone I hate. That's just… I would never do that, but I… I…"

"…But you did."

"I did. And I just don't know why."

Hermione shrugged, sighing mournfully. "Because you love Malfoy; that's why."

"I do."

"Well, I'll admit I don't approve of him, Ginny," Hermione said, sounding resigned to her words, "but as much as I do disapprove of your choice… you did it for love, and I'll support you whenever you need me to."

She looked back up at her friend, her guilty expression brightening slowly at Hermione's kind words. "You will?" she asked, not daring to believe she deserved this compassion.

"Of course," sighed Hermione with a nod. "I mean, I can't understand what you see in Malfoy, or why you'd love him—particularly in place of someone like Harry—but there really isn't much reason in love, is there?"

"I guess there isn't," Ginny said with an emotional smile.

"I just hope he makes you happy," Hermione said accusingly, her eyes narrowed with doubt and caution.

Ginny nodded. "He does," she told her. "At least… he does now."

Hermione returned Ginny's smile, but her eyebrows were low, and she looked suspicious and concerned, as though despite her words of acceptance, she didn't fully believe that Ginny really loved Draco. Ginny ignored this accusatory expression, and glanced away from her, letting her eyes travel around Ron's and Hermione's flat. "I doubt he can give you a life you want, Ginny," Hermione said, and the tone of her voice told Ginny that she had been unsure as to whether or not she should say it. "I really don't know that he can." Ginny just shrugged, her brain beginning to throb painfully with confusion. She determinedly kept her face placid, pretending she didn't care about the future, and pretending that she and Draco could stay happy together. She brushed the bottom part of her drying hair with her fingers awkwardly, attempting to fill the lengthening motionless silence with some sort of action. It didn't really help.

"So, anyway, Ginny," Hermione asked in an attempt to restore the comfort between them, "where exactly _have_ you been this past week?"

"I, uh… in a hotel," Ginny replied evasively.

Getting the point, Hermione nodded, and leaned back, still looking pointedly at Ginny. "So, then what have you been up to?" When Ginny blushed intensely, and her mouth twisted in embarrassment, she looked away, her eyes wide, and her mouth slightly open. "Oh," she said simply. "I don't want to know." She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "I really, really don't want to know about you and…" Her voice broke off before Draco's name escaped her. She was obviously unable to accept the fact that Ginny had had sex with the one and only Draco Malfoy. "Sorry," she said distractedly. "I just went to a very scary visual place, and it wasn't pleasant."

Ginny couldn't help but laugh. "That's okay," she giggled. "I know you don't like him, and I know that must be hard to accept that I've…"

"Okay, okay, I said I don't want to know!" Hermione hissed, shaking her head and covering her ears with her pale hands.

"Sorry," Ginny chuckled. "You don't have to accept it. I've accepted that you and my brother have had sex, and that's gross enough, so I understand, and you really don't have to." Hermione's entire face turned beet red, and she hid in her hands as Ginny laughed heartily at her. Again, that feeling of normality possessed her—that feeling that she'd never left Harry, and that she was still accepted by everyone, and still loved.

When Hermione had returned from her state of overwhelming embarrassment, she looked happily at Ginny. "Oh, Ginny, I've missed you so much this past week. Harry has, too." Her expression was sympathetic. "You wouldn't want to stop by and…?"

"No," Ginny cut her off. "I don't think I can handle seeing Harry now. I wouldn't know what to say, and… I don't think he'd really be able to handle seeing me, now, anyway."

"Well," Hermione suggested, "I think saying you're sorry is a good place to start."

"Oh, please, Hermione. 'Sorry' sound so… I don't know. It's just not enough. What does it really mean? It's a word. I just don't know how to express how really sorry I am, when I know he'll want me to say I don't love Draco, and I just can't do that. I'm not sorry for being with Draco, so how do I tell him I'm sorry for leaving him?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know, Ginny," she said sadly. "I just don't know."

"Well neither do I," Ginny snapped, standing. "Y'know, I think I'm going to go, Hermione."

"No, Ginny, don't go…"

"Really, I think I should," Ginny talked over her. "I don't think I can stay here much more. I'll, uh… I'll stop by again some day soon, okay, Hermione? Thanks for talking with me." At that, she turned her back on her friend, and headed for the door, not listening to the things Hermione was pleading behind her. Her heart was overwhelmed with confused, contradictory emotions, and she didn't think she could stand remaining in the presence of someone who was only going to fuel them. She knew she'd have to fully face those feelings at some point, but that was not for now. For now, she was happy to know her family and friends were surviving. It was good enough for her at the moment, as she retreated into her mindset of denial again.

* * *

By the time she returned to the hotel, and pushed open the door to hers and Draco's suite, her heart was still twanging violently inside her chest, and her blood still felt aflame with swirling, confused thoughts. Draco emerged from the next room, his bathrobe draped around him. It was shiny and white, and it made Draco seem even paler than he was. She was breathing heavily, and the sight of him made her smile wryly. 

"So where'd you go?" he asked casually, leaning against a wall.

She shrugged. "Out," she told him. They were silent for a few minutes, staring at each other, before he spoke again.

"So did you enjoy yourself?"

Ginny shrugged again. "I guess," she said.

"Well, you're back now," he sighed, standing upright again, and moving slowly toward her, his eyes twinkling with seduction. She gave a feeble grin, her mind pounding with confusion.

She stepped toward him, as well, her body heaving with needy breaths. "I am," she said playfully. "And I kind of have a headache." They stopped, barely an inch from each other. She could feel his breath on her face, and see every detail of his shining, silver eyes. She giggled, and her hands inched to the opening of his robe. "Why don't you help me to unwind, Draco?"

With a suggestive smirk, he obliged.

* * *

**A/N:** THANKS FOR READIIIING!!! I LOVE YOOOU!! Now please review, if possible!! Thanks!! I'll appreciate it! 


	20. Somebody More Like You

**A/N:** Oh boy. The drama just keeps on comin'! Woo! Okay, well, I haven't had the chance to look this chapter over yet, so I'm not sure I like it so much. Still, things are starting to work their way toward the point I've been TRYING to get to since the very beginning! I'm excited to finally get there! Lol, it's fun knowing things the reader doesn't. Mwahaha. Hee hee, anyway... I have just recently noticed what an amazingly cliche dramatic romance story this is, and y'know what? ... I could care less! I'm enjoying it way too much! Woo hooooo!!! Yay!!!! Oh, hey, wanna notice something funny? This chapter takes place on the thirtieth, and YESTERDAY was the thirtieth. I'm funny that way, I suppose. XD

And thank you all SO MUCH for the encouragement! I never woulda had the drive to get to chapter twenty (OMG BIG NUMBER) without you, wonderful readers!!

Enjoy the chapter, my darlings!!

* * *

"Draco?" Ginny asked sleepily one morning. He responded with a grunt from where he lay weakly on the bed beside her, staring at the ceiling. She sat up in bed, her eyebrows risen, waiting for a more personal response.

He turned his head to her with a smile. These had become more common on his face in Ginny's presence, and she was glad for it. "What is it?"

"What's today's date?"

"_That's_ all you wanted?" he asked incredulously with a laugh. "It's the thirtieth."

Her eyes widened. "Already?" She grinned, leaning down to kiss Draco on the mouth. "I start Quidditch practice today."

"Oh yeah," he said thoughtfully. Yawning, he sat up, too. He wrapped his arms delicately around her shoulders, and pulled her near. Her heart fluttered at his hands on her bare back, embracing her. She smiled tenderly into his shoulder as he hugged her, and kissed the nape of his neck from where she was. "I'll miss you today."

"Well, you could always go out for a bit, y'know."

He shrugged against her. "I have no place to go… no one to visit anymore. My family won't take me back, and knowing them, they've already told everyone I've ever met what a blood-traitor I am."

Ginny squeezed him tightly, running her hands up and down his spine. As she laid her head gently upon his warm shoulder, a harrowing thought crossed her mind, and she felt suddenly chilled. If it _was_ the thirtieth, then… "I missed Percy's birthday," she said quietly against Draco's soft skin.

"What?" he asked incredulously, pulling away. Her arms felt empty. "_Percy_? Wasn't he the bastard who was always trying to put me in detention, and dock points off of Slytherin? Who cares about _him_?"

Outrage seized her as suddenly as though she'd been hexed. "_I_ care about him, Malfoy," she hissed angrily. "He's my brother, you idiot. Sure, he can be a bit of a prat sometimes, but so can _you_, and I still love you both."

He sighed, flopping irritably back onto the bed. "I don't understand why you can't just forget about them, Ginny."

"Well, too bad," she snapped, standing so quickly in her anger that she slammed her shin into the bedside table. Small lights burst behind her tightly closed eyelids while she bit her lip to ease the pain. "You don't have to understand my loyalty to my family, and that's fine, but I'm not just going to stop loving them all because I love you, now, too. It's not one for the other."

"Well in this world, it's going to have to be."

"Yeah, well in the world Harry's trying to make for us, it _doesn't_ have to be!"

"Yes, that's right, defend your precious, snotty little hero, why don't you? And hey, while you're at it, go start things up with him again and forget all about me!"

"_What_?" Ginny shrieked, completely incensed now. "_What_? What the_ hell_ is your _problem_, Malfoy? I left Harry on our _wedding day_ so that I could be with _you_, you _idiot_! If I didn't want to be with you, I wouldn't have done it."

"But you miss him, don't you?" he spat furiously, sitting back up and throwing his legs over the side of the bed to stand up. His face was livid.

She threw her Quidditch robes on over her head. "God, why don't you just _shut up_ about Harry? Yes, I miss him, but _I love you_, and you should just_ trust_ that!"

"It's a little hard to trust that you love me, Weasley, when I've never felt real love before this as it is, and with the way you keep raving about Potter and what a champion he is to our world…" Trailing off, he lunged at her, clutching her arms in his thick palms. She gave a little shriek of surprise, her heart pumping wildly with fear of Draco's mad expression. His muscles were throbbing as he clutched her, his bare chest heaving, and his mouth twisted in a terrible sneer. "My entire life," he snarled through clenched teeth, "there has only been you." Ginny's stomach did crazed summersaults at his words, which she might have found romantic if he hadn't been raging at her. "I've had countless women, but I've never _loved_ any of them before. And then there was you, bitch. You had to come along and make me feel things, make me… relive all the regret that I've just been trying to ignore. You come along and make me _love_ you, tell me that you love me too, but still you make it seem like you'd rather be with _Potter_."

"I wouldn't _rather_ be with anyone," she snapped, trying to keep calm in his tight grasp, "but yes, even as much as I love you—for god only knows what ridiculous reason—I do miss him. I just hope you can forgive that."

"Yeah, well, what if I can't? What if I want you all for myself?"

Ginny attempted to wrench herself out of his grip, but he held her too firmly. "Well, I'd say you're selfish," she hissed, still trying to break free. "But I already knew that."

"And you love me anyway, is that right?" he growled, his nostrils flared and his teeth clenched. He tugged her close to him, and though she grunted in protest, the feel of his warm chest so close to hers made her feel weak in the knees. He radiated heat around her, his arms steadily closing around her, pulling her into him. "Is that right?" he asked again.

She gave an emotional exhale against his shoulder as she laid her head upon it. "I do," she said quietly. "I do, and I can't stop, no matter how many times you try to convince me to leave my family."

"And Potter?" he grumbled madly into the top of her head as he held her close.

"I don't know," she said sadly with a shrug. Her tone was infested with guilt that she just couldn't help. "I miss him," she admitted again, "Or… I know I should, but when I'm with you… everything that _should be_ just doesn't make sense, and I … I don't know. You just make everything complicated, Draco."

"As though _you_ make fewer complications?" he sighed, allowing his embrace to slide away from its possessive nature and become increasingly loving. The delight she found in his wonderful, powerful arms was disconcerting. She wanted to be stronger, wanted to be able to resist his excruciatingly magnetic pull, but it was impossible when he held her this way.

She groaned against his skin. Closing her eyes, she ran her tongue over the nape of his neck. He gave a moan, his hand trailing to the back of her head, pressing her into his body further. Her teeth scraped his shoulder, and she gave a slight giggle. "I think we're just doomed to making each other's lives complicated," she said breathily.

"I suppose so," he agreed, a sneer evident in his low, lustful voice. And at that, he brought her head up to his, and kissed her deeply.

* * *

"Good, Weasley!" Gwenog shouted from over the din of the practice. "Good!"

Ginny swooped on the Nimbus 2001 Draco was letting her borrow. It felt wonderful. She had just scored three goals in a row, and the rest of the team was sporting impressed looks. The keeper she continuously scored on kept growing steadily crankier, and it only improved Ginny's moods to notice it. Up in the air, her long pony-tail being whipped around behind her, she forgot all about Draco and Harry, and her confusion. Everything made sense up here. On the Quidditch pitch, there was nothing but her, the Quaffle, and the goal posts. Ginny made a spectacular pass to another Chaser, and another goal was scored. She whooped excitedly at the feeling of the success, and of being on a Quidditch team again.

"This is excellent," Gwenog cried happily. "Weasley, you're better than I could have imagined. I'll say, it was lucky Malfoy brought you along, Weasley; I was sure that after Kramer left the team so suddenly that we'd be screwed for good, but you're nearly better than she was!" Gwenog looked like she might fall off her broom, her face was so red, and her eyes so bright with glee. Ginny laughed.

"Thanks, Captain," she said loudly, a grin upon her face. Pride was pumping through her system alongside adrenaline, and it felt good. She hadn't much to be proud of lately.

As Ginny made a wild loop around the stadium, Gwenog yelled to the team. "Alright, I think that's enough for our first training session of the season! You've done very well, and I think Miss Weasley is working extremely well as a new member of our team!"

"Hey, Captain, who's _that_?" asked one of the Beaters. The entire team spun around, Ginny included, to gaze down at the man staring up at them with a child in his arms.

Gwenog shrugged. "Probably a fan," she grunted irritably. "Just ignore him. Well, anyway, I think this went wonderfully. So now let us land, and change, and I'll meet you all here again tomorrow." The group sped back to solid earth. Ginny took slightly more time to land. While everyone wandered toward the changing rooms, ignoring the man watching them, Ginny remained in the air, flying a few laps around the pitch. It was calming, the wind smacking her face—refreshing, like she was just waking up from a long dream. She felt back at Hogwarts as she flew, and she remembered how close she and Harry had been then. She remembered, too, what an irritating blip Malfoy had been on her social radar. She hadn't even known him, when they'd gone to Hogwarts. For six years, they'd gone to school together, and for those six years, she had fawned desperately over Harry, not knowing she would later leave him at the altar for Malfoy, of all people. Confusion starting to tap at her skull again, and she gave an annoyed groan that went unheard under the rushing wind that whirled about her as she sped in deft circles.

Frustrated by the fact that even flying wasn't ridding her of her confusion, she headed for the ground. The team was leaving the changing rooms, just as she walked toward them. "See you tomorrow, Ginny," one of her fellow Chasers said with a warm smile.

"Yeah, see you!" she said happily, waving at her. The other team members were surprisingly nice to someone so new to professional Quidditch.

The rest of the team had already disapparated as she grew close to the locker rooms. She was trying hard not to remember that Draco had shoved her inside that door and fucked her senseless in there. That had been before she'd left Harry, she remembered, just as she reached out her hand for the door handle.

"Hey," called a chillingly calm and recognizable male voice from behind her.

Her heart stopped. This was unreal. This could not be happening. With her hand still in a position as though to push open the door, she froze. She did not turn around, but merely sunk into the impossibility of it all. This was too sudden. She wasn't ready to talk to him yet. Not now. Not this way, when she was caught so off guard, and so unprepared. She clutched the handle of Draco's broom so tightly in her other hand that her fist was shaking with the pressure, and the rough surface of the wood was starting to hurt her palm. "No," she whispered, shutting her eyes to the truth. "No… not now. I'm not ready to talk to you, yet."

"Well, fortunately, Ginny, I'm really not concerned with _your_ needs at the moment." His voice rumbled like thunder through her system, though he spoke so unnervingly softly. His pain was well-concealed in his voice, but she knew it was there. Her stomach was writhing like snakes inside of her, and she felt sick.

She nodded, still facing the door. "No," she agreed. "No, I don't suppose you should be."

"_I_ need to talk to you, and I really don't care what you have to say about it. Not after what you did."

Ginny nodded once again. "You're right," she said, and her voice cracked. Lowering her arms, she turned slowly, and saw that Harry was holding a blue-haired Teddy. Her hands quivered as she folded her arms and shrugged at him. Draco's broom felt heavy in her weak hands. It felt even stranger when Harry looked down at it, his eyes narrowing in a horrible glare.

"Nice broom," he spat, clearly not thinking so at all. "That's Malfoy's, isn't it?" Of course he would recognize it, having played alongside it at Hogwarts for several years.

She shrugged, holding it closer to her. "Yeah," she admitted, "it is." The awkward silence that passed between them made her even sicker. She shuffled around where she stood, swallowed, and cleared her throat nervously. "So, um… did you have things to say?" Ginny was suffering an extreme internal battle at her own question: The part of her that forever belonged to Draco did not want to hear whatever he was going to say, but the part of her that thought she deserved to suffer for what she'd done to Harry desperately wanted to.

He gave a small nod, shifting Teddy in his arms. Still, he stayed silent. "So…?" she asked. She realized, once she'd said it, that the word sounded slightly accusatory on her lips. And yet, she found she didn't care.

"So," he repeated irritably, "Your family misses you." It was a painful thing to hear. They were silent again after this, staring at each other. She looked directly into his eyes. She regretted it the second she did, but she just couldn't bring herself to look away. They were so green, like an ocean… like two emeralds, or… she couldn't decide. They were so beautiful, so hypnotic, and she didn't no how to describe them. They were perfect… so easy to look at… like a remedy to her recent confusion. Everything fell into place when she looked into those eyes, and at the same time, it all became more confusing. "They really do," he said, as though to confirm his previous statement. "Your mum keeps saying that she's lost you, and…" The pause was deafening, and absolutely agonizing. Her heart was pumping fast, like a bloody hummingbird in her chest. She understood before he said it, and already she felt like she was drowning in the truth of it. "…They've already lost one," he told her firmly, his jaw stiff, "and… it's like they've lost another, now. It's not fair, what you've done to them."

She swallowed hard. "I know," she said, barely able to get out much more than a whisper. "I know it's not fair."

Silence struck them again, during which Teddy gurgled slightly, and tugged on Harry's mussed hair. Thoughts of Fred plagued her deeply. She closed her eyes, feeling pain sear through her heart and mind as the images of Fred's blank, staring eyes burst into her sight. She saw his lifeless cheeks—so devoid of color—and she saw his pale, cracked lips hanging half-open in a smile that lingered over from his last few moments of life. A tickling sob crawled to her throat, but she swallowed it down, and gave Harry a shaky, emotional smile.

He sniffed, and tilted his head away from Teddy's little gripping hands that were now attempting to snatch at his glasses. Ginny gave a tiny smile at the child, whose hair was still bright blue. "His hair is blue," she pointed out.

"Yeah," he agreed, looking at him. "He's stopped deciding to look like whoever he's near, recently. He's choosing his own look now." And for a moment, things were normal. For just a moment, they both smiled, and Teddy giggled. The moment was short, though, and it ended quickly. "Why?" he asked bluntly, gazing at her.

Ginny didn't have to ask what he meant. She blinked once, and stared down at the broomstick in her grasp. Its golden lettering shimmered in the sunlight dancing over it, mocking her with the fact that it belonged to Draco. She felt like it was the enemy. She wanted to bash it against the wall there, and splinter it into a hundred pieces, all because Harry was looking at her. She hated that being near Harry made her wish she was still with him. She hated that Harry's presence made her hate Draco, while Draco's own presence only made her love him. She couldn't think of or be near Draco without loving him, now, but she couldn't think of Harry—or be near him—without wishing she could be his again. The 'why' didn't seem relevant in her reality, where love never needed a reason, because it simply can't be questioned. "Why?" she repeated under her breath. Looking back up at him, slowly she said the only thing that she could think of: "Because I love him, Harry."

His expression was blank, like a still river that looked like it should have been raging. It didn't suit him. "Are you under the imperious curse?" he asked her. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously.

"No," she said firmly, raising her eyebrows. "I didn't mean to fall in…"

"Stop," Harry ordered, rather shrilly. Teddy made a funny noise, and leaned back on Harry's shoulder, picking at his small, chubby fingers. He was frowning, like he knew something annoyingly dramatic was going on between his godfather and Ginny. "Don't say you're in love with… _him_." He looked absolutely disgusted. "You do realize that it's _Malfoy_, right?"

She nodded. "I do."

"And you… love him?"

Another nod. "I do," she croaked, "and I can't help it. I'm so sorry, Harry. I never wanted things to end up like this…"

"Yeah, well, they did," he spat angrily, his expression suddenly exploding into one of distress and annoyance. The calm that had been present there before had gone, and he looked livid now. "How long was it going on before you left?"

"About a couple of weeks." She could never lie to him… not when those piercing eyes were staring her down so menacingly.

A moment passed in silence, while Harry's mouth twisted wildly. Finally, he said, "I can't believe… I was so blind to it."

"You weren't blind," she said, trying to say something helpful, but realizing her words all sounded stupid, pathetic, and unworthy. "It was extremely unexpected, even to me. I handled it badly, though. I should have told you what was going on, and stopped it, but… I was horrible, Harry. I haven't gone a single day without feeling terrible about it."

"So… you're sorry?" he asked.

She sighed. What could she say to this? Her mind raced, her blood rushing loudly in her ears as she stared at him. "Sorry for leaving you and my family? Yeah, I am," she admitted quietly. She didn't want to say the rest of what was on her mind, but he seemed to understand.

"But you're not sorry to be with…_ him_, is that it?"

Ginny was silent. She glanced away from him once again, the pain in her chest reaching an all-time high. She couldn't stand it. "Harry," she said lamely. Her tone was an unintentionally pleading one. Was she asking for forgiveness, even when she knew she didn't deserve it? "I _never_ wanted to hurt you. I loved you so much."

"_Sure_ you did," he said, disbelieving. His disgust and disappointment was obvious in his voice.

"Guinea!" cried Teddy suddenly, sounding sad. She looked up at him. He was clawing at the air, trying to reach her, and the faintest smile appeared on her lips. He was trying to say her name.

Sighing, Ginny kept her eyes on Teddy as he snatched at her. "I did love you, Harry," she said, "whether or not you want to believe it. I still do love you, I think. I think a part of me always will."

"Oh, save it," he snapped. "I'm not going to forgive you. I just came here to tell you that your family really misses you, and because I… I really miss you too." He looked like he regretted saying the last bit, as though it had slipped out without him meaning to.

"But you won't forgive me," she stated. It was not a question. She knew she didn't deserve to be forgiven, so she wasn't about to ask for it.

He shook his head slightly. "No," he said simply. "I can't. Not now. Not yet. Maybe some day in the future, but… not now." Silence gripped them again, and Ginny felt like she was going to be sick. Harry finally spoke again, and she gulped down the feeling. "So you really love… _Malfoy_?"

"I do."

"And… does he love you, too?"

"He does."

Harry gave a tiny nod, as though forcing himself to accept it. His eyes were very bloodshot, and his lips pressed very tightly together. With a deep breath, he said in a high, quivering voice, "I hope… that he can keep you happy." His small smile was excruciating, like a knife in her gut. Her entire jaw trembled with overwhelming emotions. He did not wait for a response from her as he turned, and walked back onto the enormous field. The sun that drenched Harry lit him up, and he appeared to glow as he made his path away from her. Her eyes were drowned in tears now as she watched him go, and as Teddy waved over his shoulder at her with a giddy smile on his little, round face. The sob she had been concealing as she'd spoken with Harry finally escaped her as she saw him turn on the spot, and disappear in a whirl of black and blue.

She threw her hands up to her face, letting the broomstick fall with a clatter. The tears came fast and hard, and the sick came just as quickly. Dropping to her hands and knees, she vomited grossly on the ground beside the locker room door. She was shaking with agony and disgust. When she had finished, she coughed miserably, and cleaned her mouth and the ground with a simple charm. The taste was gone, but she still felt sick. "Oh god," she said, collapsing unhappily with her back against the door. Hermione had said the very same thing to her that Harry had said as he departed. Everyone doubted that Draco made her happy, and everyone doubted their love. Since You-Know-Who's return, hadn't it been love that everyone had trusted in? Even after his downfall, love was what they were counting on, and believing in… And yet, no one could bring themselves to trust her when she said she was in it. She had thought _someone_ might understand. Hermione tried to understand, she knew, because she believed love was unpredictable, like her. Harry and Ron had always believed it, too, though, hadn't they? Harry, of course, couldn't be expected to understand—he loved Ginny, after all, and the fact that she loved someone else would never sit well with him. Ron was her brother, and Draco was one of Ron's most hated enemies, so he couldn't be expected to understand it, either. Still, she couldn't help but wish they did. She couldn't stop herself from being angry that they didn't accept her love. All she wanted was acceptance.

Angry, hurt, self-hating, and confused, Ginny pushed herself to her feet again, her weak knees shivering madly. The only person she had who understood was Draco. She was breathing heavily in the aftermath of the shock she had received from seeing Harry. It was as though she had forgotten how to breathe, and was learning how to do it all over again: in and out… in and out. The more deeply she inhaled the more real and solid she felt, and the more her head spun out of control with thoughts. She needed Draco to clear her head… to make everything make sense again. After that, she needed her family. She would go to Draco once more, and then she would go home. It became clearer as she breathed… in and out… in and out. She wanted her mother and father, and her brothers, and her old childhood bed. She wanted the love of her family back, and she wanted acceptance again. She wanted Harry again.

After picking up Draco's broom, she finally pushed open the locker room door, and stepped inside to change. She did so as quickly as she could, and left again, her heart thumping wildly beneath her ribs. She clutched the broom's handle tightly in her hand as she stepped back onto the field. Taking a look around, she found herself wishing pathetically that she hadn't given Harry the location of where her practices were being held. Yet, at the same time, she was glad. Talking to him had brought her back down to reality. She knew, now, what she was doing to her family. She realized, now, that she had to go back, and it was all thanks to Harry. She would never leave Draco, but she couldn't live in isolation with him anymore. Letting thoughts of being accepted again by her family wash over and calm her, she stepped into swirling oblivion, and turned sharply on the spot.

* * *

**A/N:** Wooooot! I'm unhappy with the ending of this chapter, but I just had no other way to end it, because I'm uncreative that way. Oy gevalt. I need a new brain. Grr. Oh well! THANKS SO DEARLY FOR READING!!! I love you!!! 


	21. Lies Of Handsome Men

**A/N:** I'M BAAAAACK!!!! After a horrific lack of updates, I'M BACK, FINALLY!! No, this story wasn't dropped. No, I didn't die. No, I wasn't purposely trying to leave you guys hanging. I've just been SO BUSY for this past month and a half, and it's been absolutely IMPOSSIBLE to write!! I'm trying hard to get into college, so that's basically all I've been doing this whole time. But whenever I have the tiniest bit of opportunity, I write. Sadly, it's so rushed and sloppy that you might absolutely hate it (as do I), but I think you'll get over it. XD Oh, the drama of this story is not easy to write when you're attempting to be stressfree so that you can get into college. Yipes. It gets worse, too. Trust me. Yaaay. And don't worry: though it might take forever for new updates, I promise I WILL finish this story, so do not fear!!

ENJOY!! AND THANKS SOOOOOOOO MUCH FOR BOTHERING TO STILL READ THIS STORY!!

(Oh, and I apologize for the painful cliffhanger. That was cruel of me, I'll admit. Bad me. Bad. XD)

* * *

Ginny swayed. She was feeling unsteady on her feet. She stared at the hotel room door in terrified apprehension. Draco was in there, waiting for her. How would he react to hear that she was going to visit her family? Should she even tell him? Couldn't she just visit them behind his back, or something? She shook her head at the door. No, she told herself firmly. She had to tell him. He deserved her honesty. If he couldn't trust her, then he couldn't trust anyone, and everyone deserves to have people they can trust, right? 

A deep gulp of air made her feel ill again, but she ignored it, and swallowed nervously. With a tiny spark of bravery that she didn't think could really be hers, she put her key in its lock, turned the handle, and pushed the door open.

The suite was just as bright as ever. That impossible aroma of romance wafted into her nostrils as she breathed deeply, and shut the door behind her. "Draco?" she called. "Draco, are you here?" Her voice sounded much more urgent than she had meant it to.

"I'm here," came Draco's usual bored drawl as he emerged from another room. "How did practice go?"

She shrugged. "Good," she muttered vaguely. Awkwardness was pumping through her as she looked at him, and remembered Harry. "So, um…did you find something to do, today?" She was being evasive, she knew—avoiding the real topic she would soon have to bring up.

Draco smiled. "I did," he said, stepping toward her. She noticed that he was fully clothed. "I went out shopping," he told her, his eyes spoiling her with their cruelly loving gaze. He removed his hands from where they'd been hidden behind his back, and she saw that in his grasp, he held a small box. Her heart sank as he stretched his arm out to present it to her. "I felt bad about this morning, so…" he admitted, looking awkward as he shoved the little box into her hands. Her heart began to pound madly as she took the gift. Her thoughts traveled to the day in Diagon Alley when he had shown her the ring he'd bought his ex-fiancée. She had hated him, then. Why couldn't she hate him now? Things would be easier if she did. She stared down at the thing in her hands, running her fingers over the top.

She managed to croak a guilty, "Thank you," before opening it. Something silver glinted up at her from the soft insides of the box. She took it between her fingers, and lifted it up. It was a long, thin chain, she realized, as it slithered from its coils and came to dangle from her delicate grasp. From the end of the sparkling chain hung a small silver _G_, encrusted with something shiny and green.

"That's a real emerald," he said, bouncing on his heels with his hands in his pockets.

"Um…" She was completely speechless. It had escaped her memory how filthy rich Draco was. "This… must have cost…a fortune."

"Oh, it wasn't so much, really," he laughed, running a hand nervously through his hair. Something told her that what was 'not so much' for him was probably way _too_ much for her.

She felt breathless. "But… Draco, this is…"

"You like it?"

Ginny held it up to her eyes. The tiny letter glinted tauntingly in the light of the suite. "It's beautiful, Draco," she told him quietly. He smiled. The sight warmed her nervous chest. The way his cheeks tightened, and the unique way the corners of his mouth rose—as though he didn't know exactly how a smile worked—always made her weak. Now, things were no different. Her legs shook. "Thank you," she sighed again. She had to look away from him—from that smile, and from those eyes that were so piercing they could have halted an army. "Draco, I…" she began, but her words failed. She sucked in her lips anxiously as she replaced the necklace back into its container, and clutched the box in her sweaty hand.

He watched her nervous gestures with apprehension. "What is it, Ginny?"

She shook her head. "Nothing, it's nothing, it's just…" How was she supposed to say it? She should say it nicely… assure him that she wasn't leaving him, just their lifestyle. Remind him that she loved him, and tell him that she loves her family, too, and doesn't want to have to choose between them. Instead, her thoughts all crushed together, and the words came out too rushed, and sounded cruel. "I'm going back to my family," she spluttered.

His expression was impossible to read. His eyebrows twitched, as though he didn't know what he was feeling, either. "Oh, really?" was the first thing out of his mouth.

"Yes," Ginny croaked miserably. Blush was creeping like little bugs up her flesh, and overpowering her face so that her complexion nearly matched her hair. "I… I'm sorry, Draco."

"No you're not," he said smoothly. His eyes were eerily blank.

"I…" She could not think of a response to this. It was true: she wasn't sorry. "I'm not leaving you, Draco," she told him. "I still love you. I just… I can't live in seclusion like this. I need to see my family."

"I know," he said, shrugging. "That's okay."

She was taken aback. "Really?"

"It makes sense, I suppose," he stated vaguely, his eyes darting toward the ceiling as his jaw clenched. He seemed to be resigning himself to being accepting of her choices. "So what brought on this sudden revelation?"

Harry's face swam to her vision. She shook her head. She couldn't tell him about Harry showing up. She just couldn't. "I don't know," she lied, her throat feeling grossly tight as she did so. "I guess I've known it for a while, now, but… y'know…"

"No, I don't know," he responded coldly.

She sighed in irritation. "Of course you don't," she hissed, her temper already building. "Maybe it's just something you can only know if you were raised by a family who really loves you. Maybe that's it." What a horrible thing of her to say. Why had she said it? She couldn't figure out why she'd said it, now that it had been said. She shook her head, her eyes softening as she forgot her temper quickly in the sudden rush of sympathy that flooded her. "Oh, Draco, I didn't mean that."

"Yes you did," Draco spat, straightening his posture. "And with reason," he added, his grey eyes full of thought and sadness. She had nothing to say to that, so she just swallowed awkwardly, shifting her weight on her feet.

Instinct drove her forward, and without even thinking about the action, Ginny wrapped her arms around Draco's tall, wide form. She leaned her head into his warm chest, and felt his heart beating against her cheek. It was an immediate remedy to her tension, and she could feel her entire being start to loosen as the steady rhythm pulsed sweetly against her face. As she took a deep breath, inhaling the masculine scent of him, an uncomfortable prickling sensation around her eyelids made her mouth and chin spasm involuntarily. Her eyes were hurting, and her chest was starting to expand painfully with the increased depth of her unsteady breathing. When she blinked, her eyelashes dampened. She gave a miserable sniff. Within an instant, she was sobbing into the Draco's chest. Ginny felt him stiffen around her in surprise. "Ginny," he croaked thickly. "Ginny, don't cry. Don't cry, please." His voice was rich in sympathy, and the sound of his concern ignited the pain of adoration within her heart.

She tried to stop her downpour of tears, but it was useless. Her cheeks were cold under the wet splotches forming on Draco's robes, but she could not pull herself away. Her love seemed almost tangible inside of her when she felt suddenly his warm palms on the back of her head. His long fingers stroked her hair, and his arms crushed her more tightly to his body, as though to absorb her into him.

"I love you, Ginny," he whispered against the top of her head, tickling her scalp with his delicious breath. "I want you to be happy. I've never wanted that for anyone before, but I want you to be happy, and to live your life the way you want it." She smiled through her tears, fidgeting behind his back with the necklace's case she was still holding. She couldn't have asked for more from him.

"So you won't be mad I'm going to see my family?" she squeaked.

"No. Just irritated."

Ginny couldn't help but laugh at that. The power behind her sobs was ebbing away, and only sniffles were escaping her now. "Thanks, Draco. I appreciate it." She finally gathered the strength to drag herself out of his delightful embrace with a weak but honest grin, though she still remained in his arms.

"You will come back, though, right?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course," she assured him with a sharp exhale of amusement.

"So when are you going?"

She shrugged, letting her free hand roam over the wet spots on the fabric of Draco's robes. Her fingers drew light circles around them, and slid downward over his stomach and hips. The corners of her mouth twitched as she squinted suggestively at him. All his sweet talk had made her ache for him. "Tomorrow," she sighed hoarsely, leaning up to kiss him.

* * *

On the following morning, Ginny felt confident about her decision, even through her nerves. The logical part of her brain reminded her that this really wasn't quite as dramatic as she was making it seem. They were her family, after all. They couldn't be _too _mad, could they? 

The necklace Draco had given her the night before was cold against the bare skin of her chest beneath her robes. She blinked in the sunlight as she touched the chain at her neck with adoration, smiling lightly at the thought of him, and at the sight of the Burrow. Its crooked walls and scattered chickens were immediate remedies to any doubt she'd had. She'd missed this place so much it was eating her alive, and it felt so good to finally be back. "Home sweet home," she couldn't help whispering, just to add to the aura of sweet reunion.

She stepped through the yard, her heart hammering as she approached the back door, thinking of the expression her mother would surely wear when she saw her daughter come home as though she hadn't just run away to France all month. With her hand on the door knob, Ginny began to sweat, but she couldn't turn back now. She needed this: she needed to be able to explain everything to her parents, and just to see them, and know that they still loved her.

"Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley called to where Ginny was standing. "Is that you?" Her voice sounded scratchy as though she was sick, but she was never sick. Ginny's guilt shot up into her throat to linger there so that it hurt to swallow. What if her mother was sick and it was all her fault for having put this extra stress on her?

Taking a nervous deep breath, Ginny opened the door, and spoke, her words feeling foreign to her as she said them. "It's me, mum."

Something thudded against the floor as her mother dropped something out of shock. A bright red face appeared out of no where, and was suddenly showering her with kisses. "Oh, Ginny! You're back! Oh, Ginny, thank god! We've been so worried!" She pulled away from her daughter to hold her at arms length and scrutinize her anxiously. "Are you alright?" she asked.

Ginny's entire body felt like pudding, completely melted in delight at being able to see her mother's face again. The only difference that had come to it since she'd last seen it several weeks ago was that those eyes that were so like her own had become heavily lidded, and deeply bagged, as though she hadn't been getting much sleep. "I'm fine, mum," she croaked, giving her mother a weak, cautious smile.

Just as the words left her dry mouth, Mrs. Weasley's worried, adoring gaze hardened. She placed her hands on her hips in the fantastically formidable way that Ginny had certainly not forgotten. "Where on _earth_ have you been? What could you _possibly_ have been thinking that would compel you to leave your wedding like that? What _happened_ to you, Ginny?"

There were the questions Ginny had been expecting to receive. There they were, and she found that as much as she'd pondered over it, she didn't know what to say now that the situation had arrived where she actually had to answer them. She took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and tried to speak, but her lips just moved noiselessly like a fish out of water.

"Don't you play dumb with me, young lady, because this isn't something you're just going to excuse with an apology and an ashamed smile. Tell me what went on."

Shrugging, Ginny looked away from her mother. She didn't know what to say. She tried to think back to all her prepared answers, but they all throbbed together against her fragile skull, confusing her, and making her head hurt. "I don't know," she mumbled.

"That isn't good enough," Mrs. Weasley hissed.

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, mum!" Ginny cried, her voice rising with her temper already. "I love Malfoy. I'll admit it. I'm in love with Draco Malfoy, and I can't help it, and I don't understand it any more than you do, so don't ask me why!" The expression on Mrs. Weasley's face was a difficult one to interpret. It was a messy cross between sympathy and disgust, and it struck a painful place in Ginny's heart. "I am sorry, mum," she sighed, gazing sadly into the older woman's face. "Even if that won't help anything, I am sorry. I never wanted to hurt anyone, I just wanted… I just had to be with Draco, and I knew that… y'know… that could never happen, unless…" She swallowed. "Unless I kept it hidden, or left with him, and…"

"So you did both?" Mrs. Weasley intervened. "How long was it being hidden before you decided to finally run away?"

"Several weeks," Ginny admitted. "I tried to make it stop, though, I swear." Her tone grew desperate, and she knew her face must be wrung with desperation for understanding. "I really wanted it to stop, but I just… I couldn't help it! No matter what I did, I just couldn't stop loving him!"

"But he's a Malfoy!" Mrs. Weasley moaned with anguish, closing her hands over her face. She looked extremely tense.

"I know he is," Ginny said furiously, pushing passed her mother to actually cross the threshold into the kitchen, and flop into a chair at the table. "Look," she said on an exhale, "I'm sorry that I hurt you all. You know I didn't mean to."

Sniffling, Mrs. Weasley came to sit beside Ginny at the table, her round face very red. "All I know is that sometimes love just isn't enough to keep a person happy. It should be, but it isn't always. Sometimes, there are just going to be other factors, like the kind of person he is, or the way he treats you, or how many people you're hurting by running away with him." Ginny's heart panged with guilt. "I know you wouldn't mean to hurt your family, Ginny, dear," she said, placing her hand on her daughter's arm, "but sometimes people can do inane things for the sake of love. You just have to remember that love isn't all that has to be present to keep two people together."

Ginny nodded. "I know," she whispered sadly, silent tears starting to stream down her face at her mother's words. "Draco and I won't stay together," she mumbled. "Will we?" The terrible sorrow of the truth weighed down her bones, and she felt heavy, like a stone sinking helplessly into a polluted pond.

"I don't know, dear," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "I don't know anything about him, other than the fact that he's not very nice, that he's a Malfoy, and that he's Teddy's second cousin." Ginny felt almost compelled to laugh. She had completely forgotten that Draco and Tonks had been cousins. She fought the urge, however, and searched her brain for something sensible to say back to her mother.

"Well, he loves me," was all that came to her mind. The words sounded foolish when said aloud, but Mrs. Weasley did not patronize her for it. As it was, she actually smiled sadly, nodding delicately.

"These things happen," said Mrs. Weasley with a sympathy Ginny hadn't expected.

Shame washed through her system as she looked into her mother's soft, warm, and caring eyes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered shakily, her unstoppable tears flowing heavily now. "I didn't want to put you through all that worrying and stuff. I just wasn't thinking, and I'm so sorry." Her breath came in short, painful gasps between every few raspy words, and she could feel her expression being contorted with the emotions plaguing her. "And after Fred," she sobbed, "I just didn't even bother to think what this might do to you. I was such an idiot! I'm so sorry!"

"You're not an idiot," Mrs. Weasley cooed in a choked, tearful voice. "You're just in love."

"Well I wasn't this stupid when I was in love with Harry."

"Oh, you were," the older woman said with a light, playful laugh. "You just never had the chance to do something stupid for his sake. It's an exciting part of love, being able to do something ridiculous as proof of your love. Trust me, I know," Mrs. Weasley said darkly, her expression quite distant for a moment. "Things start to feel less exciting without that ability to be stupid—sacrifice something, or whatever—and you feel less in love. It's perfectly normal."

"But…" Ginny's crying was making her entire body heave up and down in her seat, and it was difficult to speak. "But, mommy… love is supposed to last forever!"

Her mother shook her head. "Oh, no, sweetie." Ginny collapsed forward onto her lap, sobs obstructing the possibility of any more words. "Oh, Ginevra darling, I am so sorry." Ginny could not see the tears now falling down Mrs. Weasley's cheeks, for her face was buried in the woman's knees, and she did not look up when her mother's hand began to stroke the back of her head. "Ginny…" she said softly to her daughter, realizing how broken the young woman had become with this discovery that love isn't perfect. "Sometimes love does work out, dear. I just think that your father and I have given you false hope that it always works out. We were just lucky to have found each other. I have always prayed that you would find someone who would be just as wonderful to you as he is to me, but I should never have shielded you from the reality of most love, dear."

"But that's… what I want…" Ginny choked, snuggling into the fabric of her mother's skirt. "I want… to love… like you and dad."

"You will," Mrs. Weasley told her, but there was no confidence in her statement, or in her expression. There was only intense sadness. "But sometimes," she croaked, "you'll fall in love before finding that true love, and though it might end up being an enormous mistake…" Her chin shook uncontrollably. "…At least you loved at all. Love is a gift, whether it's painful or not, and it's an experience to treasure your entire life, no matter how short it lasts."

There was nothing more to say. Ginny's heart was full to the brim with emotion that she could not express except through tears. Some of these were for her love, for her joy, and for her family. Some were for her intense sadness, and for her despairing hopelessness. Mrs. Weasley simply let her daughter cry. She had known this would happen some day. She had waited for this conversation to take place, and had worried when it never had. More tears flowed from her as the thought that it had occurred too late nagged at the back of her mind. She had been putting it off. Perhaps she had hoped her daughter would never hurt in love, the way she had in the past? Perhaps that was it. Shame that she had never warned Ginny sooner pooled in her heart, but it was suppressed by the sweet bonding of the moment, which filled her simultaneously with overwhelming gladness.

The voice of a male youth wafted toward them from the yard, and Ginny sat up quickly as the back door opened again, and Ron's freckled face came into view from behind it. "Ginny," he stated, catching sight of her. She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, smiling shakily at her brother. Mrs. Weasley wiped her face inconspicuously with the corner of her shirt, and turned to face him as well.

"Ron," squeaked Ginny, unsure of what else to say. She stood, breathing deeply to hold back the tears still threatening her bloodshot eyes. Ron's face was unreadable. His mouth was slightly open, and his eyes were wide. One of his hands still rested softly on the doorknob of the open door, and Hermione stepped through it after him. "Hermione," Ginny said in awkward greeting. Had she told Ron of their previous meeting?

"Ginny," said the bushy-haired woman, giving a small nod. Her face went pink, and she bit her lip as she glanced anxiously at Ron.

Things were very awkward for several silent moments. Then Mrs. Weasley stood sharply, and cleared her throat. The other three looked at her. "There is no need for things to be so solemn," she snapped, waving her hands at Ginny's back in a gesture as though to push her toward her brother. "Why don't you just hug and be done with it?"

"Because she left my best friend at the altar for my worst enemy, and because she's been not seen or heard from for weeks while she and Malfoy are doing god knows what." He glared at her, folding his arms across his chest.

Hermione put her hand on his shoulder. "Be nice, Ron," she warned him.

"Why should I?"

Ginny scoffed, her short temper flaring up again already. "Because I'm your sister, and don't you think I feel guilty enough already? We've had too many fights about my boyfriends in the past, and there's no need to have another one."

"Yeah, well this one constitutes fighting," he hissed. Mrs. Weasley groaned from beside Ginny, tangling a hand in her hair as she sensed a shouting match approaching. "It's Draco Malfoy, for crying out loud!"

"I realize that, thank you," she said angrily, folding her arms over her front also as he uncrossed his, and let them hang awkwardly at his sides. "But I really don't want to fight with you about it."

"How could you do that to Harry?" Ron asked shortly. "He doesn't deserve that sort of treatment."

"I know," she groaned, exasperation evident in her tone. "I didn't want to hurt him."

"Yeah, well, too bad, because you did. And what about your family? Did you even think about how you might have been hurting us?"

"I did think about it, just not logically. It was a mistake, I get it."

"Oh please, you didn't think about us. We never crossed your mind, did we? You were just too blinded by whatever you see in Malfoy to even stop and wonder if you might be making mum and dad suffer."

"CAN YOU JUST _STOP IT_?" Ginny shouted. Rage at his accusations was overpowering her reasonable thought. "I DIDN'T COME HERE TO START SOMETHING. I CAME BACK TO _APOLOGIZE_, AND TO ADMIT I DID SOMETHING WRONG! I JUST WANT TO MAKE THINGS RIGHT AGAIN!"

"YEAH, WELL, YOUR APOLOGY IS NOT ACCEPTED!" Ron bellowed. His face was bright purple in his fury.

Hermione was shaking beside him. "Ron, please," she pleaded. "She's trying."

"Well she could have tried a little harder from the very beginning," he spat madly, his voice losing its volume slightly as he averted his gaze from Ginny. "Then she'd be married, and we wouldn't be mad at each other."

"If I had married Harry that day," Ginny said with a sob clawing at her words, "I know I would have lived to regret it, and I can't have gone back on it. Sure, I regret leaving him, but at least I… I… I don't know… took the chance to go feel what I would have regretted not feeling if I had stayed with Harry."

Ron's face was still colorful. "Well I don't forgive you. You hurt my best friend, and you hurt your family. I don't forgive you."

Ginny's heart sank, and she felt suddenly ill. "That's okay. You don't have to. I just wanted you to know that I was sorry, and… well, now you know."

"Fine," he hissed, and with a last miserable glare, he stormed out of the room into another part of the house. Silence buzzed around Ginny, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley.

"I hate that I've made things so awkward between us," Ginny sighed.

Hermione shook her head. "It's not awkward," she said kindly, "just… slightly tense." She smiled. Ginny did, too. "I'm so sorry about Ron," she said, looking disappointed as she stared at the place where he'd been standing. "He's just… very distraught. I think he'll get passed it soon."

"Yeah right," Ginny laughed. Her stomach was starting to turn, and she was feeling sicker and sicker with every moment.

"You never know," said Hermione with an anxious shrug. "He might."

"Mm hmm," Ginny said carelessly, clapping a hand over her mouth while her other hand clutched her stomach.

Mrs. Weasley touched her back lightly, looking at her daughter nervously. "Are you alright, dear?" she asked.

"Mmf," was all Ginny could let out before scrambling quickly away from her mother, and vomiting upon the floor on the other side of the table. Her insides felt like liquid, and her limbs were shaky and week.

Hermione gasped, and clutched her heart in horror. "Oh, god, Ginny! Are you okay?" She and Mrs. Weasley rushed to Ginny's side.

"Ugh…" she groaned. "That… was not fun."

"No, clearly not," Mrs. Weasley said sympathetically, helping her back to her seat.

As Ginny sat, she panted heavily. "I'm sorry about that," she sighed. "I don't know what that was. Just… really nauseous."

"Did you eat anything funny?" her mother questioned.

When Ginny shook her head, Mrs. Weasley looked extremely worried. "What? I'm probably just sick. It wouldn't be the first time I've ever been sick in my life. It's not a big deal!"

"Maybe," said the older redhead. "But…" Her eyes narrowed. "Have you and Malfoy…?"

"What? _Mum_!"

"It's a valid question, Ginny," Hermione said in cautious agreement. "Because… well… I'm sort of thinking you might be…"

She didn't finish her sentence, and she and Mrs. Weasley exchanged terrified looks. "What?" Ginny asked again, breaking out into a sweat. "_What_?" Denial swept over her, understanding what they were getting at, but refusing to accept it. "YOU THINK I MIGHT BE _WHAT_?" she shouted, anxiety building within her. Her muscles were very sore, and she massaged the back of her neck in an unconcerned attempt to sooth the accumulating stress. "What?" she asked again, her chin shaking as reality settled in her gut.

She hadn't gotten her period all month.

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**A/N:** Thanks so much for reading, and sticking with me for this past month and a half of no updates!!! I deeply appreciate it!! Oh, and reviews will be very much loved, because I KNOW this chapter must have like countless errors due to its rushed-ness. XD lol. 

Oh yeah, and congratulations to all those who guessed it!! And here I thought I was being all subtle. Bah!


	22. Virgin State Of Mind, Everybody Knows

**A/N:** So here it is!! I can't believe I managed to finish this stupid chapter!! It's been bugging me so much, so I just finally decided: alright, I'm just gonna sit down and do it. So now I have, it's done, and here it is!! Yaaaay! Alrighty, well, I know you don't care, but I had my first in-person portfolio review, and it went really well!! The guy said he wanted to accept me!! AAH!! COLLEGE!! SO SCARY!! BUT SO EXCITING!! YAY!! AAAAAH!! Ehem, yes, anyway... XD

Oh, and about the chapter titles: I've been creating a music playlist to inspire me as I go along in writing this fic, and so because my chapter titles were so ridiculously boring in every way, I decided to replace them with the song(s) from that playlist I felt corresponded best with that chapter. Weeeeee!

My god, it's getting so angsty and emotional and pathetic and dramatic and... I LOVE IT!! XD LOL, I'M SUCH A LOOOOOSER!!! WOOHOO!!

Enjoy!!

EDIT: LOL, I have to edit this chapter because I'm actually enough of an idiot that I COMPLETELY left Percy out of the dinner scene. Pfft. It's no wonder. I dislike him. Still, he redeemed himself greatly in DH, so I accept his existence again.

* * *

She gazed at herself. The full-length mirror that her mother had given her when she was nine remained graciously silent as she stared, marveling at every minuscule detail of her naked body. At eighteen, she had the physically developed graceful body of a woman, but still the awkwardness of a child. So was the way of adolescence, she supposed. 

Drawing a breath, she watched the simple motion of all her muscles working to aid the inhalation. Her hunched shoulders shrugged slightly. Her bloated stomach contracted. Her breasts shook. She watched her breasts as she breathed. How pitiful they appeared when she scrutinized them this carefully. They were unfairly proportioned, she realized; they were small, awkwardly shaped, and one was far fuller than the other.

Still, men had always thought her beautiful, hadn't they? She supposed her porcelain-dollish face and her fantastically long red hair were enough to attract men to her. Once she had them there, it didn't matter what her body looked like, did it? She didn't know. She didn't know anything anymore. She continued to stare at her body, her mind enveloped with confusion. Her waist was curved like that of a woman, and her graciously wide hips fitted nicely to her voluptuous thighs. Though she had all these marvelous assets women were made to have, she could not shake from her stature the gawky adolescence that seemed permanently shrouded over her physical maturity.

And there, she thought, was what threw her into this maturity she knew she was not ready for just yet. There it was, she realized, though she tried hard not to think of it. She ran her hand over her lower stomach. Something lived, there. Something… some form of child… grew and pulsed and thrived inside of her. How strange, she mused gently over the din of her worried thoughts. How strange that simply from her love with Draco, a new life could spring into the world from inside of her tender, young body. She didn't know what she felt about this. Most of all, she felt amazement. Shock, wonder, and awe were the only feelings she seemed able to convey with certainty. Beside that, excitement had fused with terror, and she could not hold a firm grasp on the intense emotions that were spinning violently within her.

Ginny stood this way for hours, aching under the terrible weight of the grief she felt for her passing childhood.

A knock upon her door made her jump, and she saw the muscles in her abdomen clench with the surprised movement. There was an incredible fluidness to the way the human body moved—one she'd never before noticed, but now she found absolutely hypnotizing. "Uh… what?" she called without taking her eyes away from the mirror.

Hermione's timid voice squeaked from the other side of the door. "Ginny… your mum says that she wants to have a big family dinner, and, well… it's kind of for you…"

_Why?_ Ginny wondered wildly. _Because I'm…?_

"Y'know, because you're home again."

"Oh," Ginny said simply. "That's nice. Okay. I'll be down soon."

She heard Hermione's footsteps retreating. Shaking her head at her reflection, she wondered about Draco, and about how he made her feel. He made her feel like no one else ever had. She loved him so much, in a sick and unexplainable kind of way, and he loved her… but she had never cried so much in her memory as she had in the past month she'd spent with Draco. Now, her eyes felt all dried out, as though there were no more tears left there. She blinked at herself. Her eyes were red, but she had not cried, and she didn't feel like she could.

Dressing quickly, Ginny sauntered slowly down the stairs feeling light-headed, and sick, and her feet felt numb as she walked barefoot on the cold hardwood floor of the steps. When she reached the bottom landing, Hermione ambushed her. "Ginny," she whispered, "you took…?"

"Yes, I took the test," Ginny said tonelessly. "Positive."

Hermione's face was unreadable. "Your mother and I haven't said a word, so don't worry. That's your choice," she told her sweetly.

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, thanks," she replied. The older woman nodded encouragingly to her, her eyes squinted in an odd sort of sympathetic agony. Ginny didn't know what to make of it. They linked arms, and wandered into the kitchen together. Hermione's palm was sweaty on Ginny's bare forearm.

They were all there: Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, and even Andromeda Tonks, with a much larger and rounder Teddy standing on her knees. He was slamming his tiny fists onto the surface of the kitchen table with delight that was infectious, and made Ginny smile. His hair was a vibrant green today. Bill was cradling a tiny, yawning Victoire in his arms. Her freckles were extremely visible, even though she was barely showing from underneath her fluffy blanket, which was clearly hand-knit. Most likely Mrs. Weasley's great handiwork, Ginny reasoned, looking at her mother.

"Wow, look at this," Ginny said in a falsely cheery exclamation. She wasn't up for being surrounded by people.

"Oh, well, you know, we've all missed you this past month, dear," Mrs. Weasley cooed, rushing over to snatch her away from Hermione and drag her to the table.

Ginny gave a slight, hoarse laugh. "It wasn't a _whole_ month, mum," she reminded her.

"Yes, well… it certainly felt like a whole month, didn't it?" Ginny could only nod to this.

And all of a sudden people were running at her. It was a stampede of adoring family members. The sound of chairs falling backward onto the floor was barely heard as phrases like "Oh, I've _missed _you, Ginny!" and "It's so good to have you back!" and "Where on earth have you _been_?" were cried happily into her ear. Several pairs of arms were engulfing her all at once, squeezing her gladly with obvious relief.

"Yeah," she said vaguely. "Yeah, it's great to see you all again, but it's only been a few weeks, really…"

"But you left with no warning, and with such a ridiculously dramatic exit like that," Charlie reminded her unnecessarily as he pulled away from her with a soft smile. "It made it feel like a lot longer than it was."

Mrs. Tonks scoffed from where she remained at the table. "Of all the people for you to leave with," she said, shaking her head. "My nephew? I mean, really? He reminds me so of my sister." She looked uncharacteristically bitter. "That woman should never have had a child. People like that should never have children in general. I pity Draco's children, if he ever has them."

Ginny's heart went cold and stiff, and her throat tightened in defense of Draco, and of the cells multiplying inside of her to form the very thing Mrs. Tonks said she pitied. She could not respond to the insensitive comment. She could only make an indistinct noise, and press her lips together in a grimace that could have been mistaken for an awkward smile. The crowd around her began to idle slowly back to the table. George let a hand linger on her shoulder as he slipped away from her. He gave her a tight-lipped smile of honest brotherly love, and she smiled genuinely back at this. For a moment, she actually scanned the spaces to George's right and left as though to search for Fred there, and was seriously surprised to find him alone. The grief struck her again, and she blinked in shock at the return of that feeling she'd been ignoring. George looked awkward as he walked back over to his fallen chair, and picked it up. He looked rather like half a man without his twin there beside him. This was a sight she certainly had not missed during her weeks with Draco. She watched him sit beside Bill, who had not gotten up, but was pulling back an empty chair on his other side, looking pointedly at her.

"Here, Ginny," he said, waving her over with his free hand. Victoire squirmed adorably in his other arm. A cacophony of scraping chairs engulfed the room as the family scooted back into their seats, and Ginny took hers beside Bill. Victoire made a gurgling sound, and Bill shifted her in his grasp. "It's so good to see you," Bill said sweetly with a grin, leaning sideways to give her a one-armed hug.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Hi. Yeah." She didn't have the brain power to say anything smart, or consoling, or witty, or even nice. She was too tired, too worn out by the stress of it all. She looked straight ahead of her at Ron. He was another who hadn't moved from his seat when everyone else had rushed to attack her with hugs. She smiled awkwardly at him, and the corners of his mouth merely twitched. His arms were crossed, and he didn't look at all glad to be near her. She ignored him. Victoire squealed in Bill's arms, and Ginny turned to her brother and niece. "How're things with Victoire?" she asked Bill, who grinned down at his little daughter.

"Fantastic," he admitted, his eyes shining as he gazed down at the bundle of squirming fabric. He untangled her with his free hand, so that more of her plump little face could peek through. "I know Fleur would have liked to be here, too, but she was too tired. It took me a while to convince her to let me bring Victoire along, but I managed it in the end, and here we are." He smiled up at Ginny.

Ron made an irritable noise. "Yeah, well I wanted Harry to come, but apparently I was the only one."

The table fell rather silent, except for the clinking of dishes as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley set food on the table for the little crowd. Mr. Weasley paused in placing a bowl of mashed potatoes near Ron. His ears went red as he straightened up and said "Yes, well… your mother and I didn't really feel that it would be… uh… appropriate."

"Well _I_ think it _would_ be _appropriate_," Ron snapped. "He deserves to know you're back, and he deserves an apology."

Ginny couldn't say anything. She felt her eyes sting dryly, and she looked down at her plate, which glistened at her in the lamplight.

"Leave it alone, Ron," Percy hissed.

"Seriously," George said. "Can't we just enjoy the togetherness of our family right now? We'll have time for emotional accusations later, but right now, let's just enjoy each other's company."

"Thank you, George," said Mr. Weasley appreciatively.

The whole table was still looking at George. "What? I'm serious," he said. "It's nice having the whole immediate family together, isn't it?"

"It certainly is," Charlie agreed with an amused smile, "but it's just odd hearing you be serious." George shrugged, and smacked Charlie on the back of his head. There was a vague collective giggle as the two brothers proceeded to engage in a girly, meaningless catfight. The air was lightened, and in a seemingly synced motion, the group began to dig in to the delicious meal Mrs. Weasley had prepared for them. As it was, with or without Fred, George still had the power to relax an unbelievably tense atmosphere without even much effort.

Throughout the meal, Victoire giggled and screamed sweetly in Bill's arms beside Ginny. Her head was throbbing with the sounds, but she said nothing about it as she ate. She said nothing about much, actually, except to respond to questions or statements people made directly to her. Mrs. Weasley was staring at her the entire time, but she pretended not to notice. She was doing a very good job of it, until Ron piped up with "So why don't you tell us all what you've been up to, this past month, hmm?" Her eyes felt unwillingly drawn to her mother, who was still looking at her. She didn't want to answer this, but now not only was her mother staring at her, but the rest of the table was, as well. She felt very naked under the curious and accusing gaze of her entire family. Victoire made a funny sound in the silence, and Ginny's stomach somersaulted. Teddy hummed as he held a bottle in his mouth with fat little hands. Even his eyes were fixed on Ginny. Of all the people there, it was Teddy she could not bring herself to lie to.

"Well, what's there to say? I've been with Malfoy," she said honestly, her voice nonchalant.

Hermione scratched a point behind her ear, looking ashamedly down at her food, and playing with it a little on the end of her fork.

"Yeah," said Ron, staring coldly at his sister, "and how is the nasty little Slytherin, anyway? Any nicer than he was at Hogwarts?"

Ginny shrugged. "He is," she lied. "And…yeah, he's alright, I guess. Not wonderful, but better, I think, now that he's stopped associating himself with his family."

Ron scoffed. "Well he'll always be a Malfoy to me."

"Ron," Hermione warned, but he ignored her.

"Whether or not he doesn't associate himself with them anymore, doesn't mean he isn't one of them. He's still a Malfoy. And he's still a bastard."

"Yes, well he's also a Black," Ginny reminded him, "and we all know the Blacks aren't all bad. Look at Sirius and Andromeda!"

"Well he's not like them! Malfoy is a Slytherin, and he's made our lives miserable from the first moment we met him! How could you forget that so easily?"

"Please, Ron, not now," Ginny groaned, dropping her fork which she'd been holding stationary above her plate for several minutes. It clattered onto her plate loudly, and she sunk her head into her hands, staring at where it fell, avoiding the eyes of everyone around the table. "Let's not get into this again, please. I didn't mean to fall in love with him, I'm sorry I abandoned you, now let's drop it."

Silence fell again. Victoire gnawed noisily on the corner of her knitted blanket.

Ron sniffed angrily, and looked clearly as though he had more to say, but was holding his tongue for the sake of Mrs. Weasley, who was now glaring at him. "Ron, please, calm down," Hermione pleaded quietly with him.

"I _am _calm," he hissed back at her, and they carried on a furious little whispered argument for several minutes while conversations around the table picked up again.

Victoire reached a small fist out of her covers, and snatched toward Ginny, who still kept her eyes downcast, not looking at the baby.

Teddy giggled, and used a spoon to attack the side of the table.

Victoire squeaked, clutching one of Bill's fingers.

Teddy grabbed for his bottle again, and Mrs. Tonks handed it to him. He drank from it happily, the slurping noises echoing in Ginny's brain, even over the voices of everyone around her.

Victoire yawned, still holding Bill's little finger, and snuggled her tiny nose into his chest.

Ginny must have looked as awful as she felt, because Bill suddenly asked, "Are you alright, Ginny?" He touched her shoulder kindly with his free hand. She did not look at him, but nodded violently, making her head ache even more than it had been. How could she tell him that his daughter was making her crazy, unintentionally taunting her with the truth of her situation? How could she tell him that Teddy's presence was also driving her mad with it, and with memories of Draco? "You sure?" he asked.

She looked up at him, then. "I'm…" She wanted to say she was fine, but Bill's oldest brother sort of understanding stripped her defenses bare, and made it difficult to lie. Her mouth hung open as she searched for a lie, an excuse, a word to tell Bill that she was fine, and that she was going to stay with them forever, and that she was happy with the way everything was, and that Draco was no longer a part of her life, and that she would return to Harry, and marry him, and have lots of little Potters, and be the best sister, daughter, wife, and mother that she could be. All she could say, instead, was "I'm pregnant."

Once again, the din subsided.

Victoire snored, and Teddy continued to suckle on his bottle. Ron started choking on his food, and Hermione, who looked embarrassed again, had to slap him on the back hard to make sure he kept breathing. Bill's expression was fairly calm, though his eyes were wide, and his mouth slightly open. Percy's lips formed a perfect 'O', and his face was very red. Charlie's mouth was open so wide, his jaw may have been attached by a loose hinge. George's eyebrows were so high on his forehead that they were nearly lost under the bangs he'd grown in the past few weeks. Mr. Weasley was as white as death.

"Tell me I heard incorrectly," her father choked out.

Ginny's heart felt as though it had been compressed into a juicer. It hurt, to say the least. Then again, she should have expected this reaction. She should not have said it. But it was too late to go back, now. They knew.

"Arthur," Mrs. Weasley cooed, stroking her husband's back. "Arthur, don't be angry, she doesn't need that from us."

"You're saying you knew about this?" he asked her, his voice quivering. "And… you're saying this is real? She's serious? She's…" He turned back to Ginny, who stared blankly at him. "You're serious? I didn't just… mishear you?"

She shook her head. Her eyelids felt heavy, and so did her bones. "No, you didn't. I really am." Ron gave a final cough, and was quiet. There, again, was that silence. She wished it would go away. "Uh… I'm sorry?" she tried.

"There's no reason to be sorry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said sternly. "It isn't your fault."

"No," Mr. Weasley agreed. "It's not your fault. It's that Malfoy's fault. I thought you were done with that nonsense when you came back home!"

Ginny shrugged. There wasn't much else to say. She didn't have the willpower to even bother correcting him with the fact that she had never actually said she was leaving him for good.

"Please, Arthur, calm down. Nobody is at fault, here," her mother pleaded.

"I am calm, Molly, I just… I can't see how this could have happened!"

Her parents reminded Ginny strongly of Ron and Hermione, at times like this.

"Well, you see dad," George said, his tone bouncy and amused, "it's really quite simple. When a witch and a wizard love each other, sometimes they decide to…"

"Shut up, George," Percy hissed, pushing his square glasses anxiously up his sweaty nose.

"Yeah," Charlie agreed, glaring gravely at George. "This isn't funny. It's serious. Our baby sister is having a baby."

"Don't say that," Ron snapped, his eyes watering, and his face very red. If she hadn't just watched him nearly choke and die, she might have thought this pained expression was out of sympathy for her, but she knew better. "Ginny is not having a baby. She's lying. You're lying, right?" he added, turning quickly to her.

"No, I'm not lying," she informed him. Her expression was blank, and her insides felt very cold. They all knew, now. What could she do or say? The truth was out there, and there was nothing for her to do, now, except bear through all their reactions.

Mrs. Tonks made a funny noise of exasperation. "Well, surely you aren't going to _keep_ it, are you?"

There was that silence again.

"What?" Ginny questioned. "What are you talking about?"

"In the muggle world, when you don't want a baby, you can just…"

Hermione squeaked, and hid her face in her hands.

"Oh, Hermione," Mrs. Tonks said calmly, "it's not like I'm all for that being a good option, but in the case of a Malfoy… I'm ready to encourage Ginny towards it."

"But, what is it?" Ginny asked in confusion.

"I'm talking about you having an abortion, dear."

"Oh, stop it, Mrs. Tonks," Hermione snapped. "Ginny will do what she wants!"

Ginny's mind was spinning. She still didn't know what they were talking about. "But what _is_ an abortion?" she cried. "I don't understand what you're saying!"

Hermione sighed. "Well, in the muggle world, there are ways of terminating a pregnancy. I don't know if there are in the magical world, but…"

"Stopping the pregnancy? You mean… like… killing the baby?" Ginny gasped.

"Well, you'd terminate it before it really is scientifically considered alive. There are all sorts of moral issues being debated about it in the muggle world, and…"

"No," said Ginny plainly.

Mrs. Tonks shook her head. "Ginny, dear, I really do think you should consider it. Think about it. You wouldn't have to worry about Malfoy anymore, if you did it. I think it would really be the best choice for you, honey."

Ginny's entire body felt on fire with an unexpected fury. She couldn't even believe this was being suggested. She loved Draco, and without even realizing it, their love had made a whole new life. The sentimental part of her shouted down all her logic, and she knew in her very blood that something created from their love couldn't possibly be a bad thing. "I said no, Mrs. Tonks," she said sternly.

"Are you sure, though?" the woman asked her. Her expression was one of painful disappointment. "Because I seriously think that…"

"I said NO," Ginny shouted, getting to her feet. All eyes were on her. The silence was even more deafening than it had been when she'd first said she was pregnant. Things suddenly made slightly more sense as she stood, and glared around at all those staring at her in terror. "It's _my_ baby," she said protectively, reminiscent of a small child claiming a toy as hers. "It's mine and Draco's, and I'm going to have it, whether or not the whole fucking lot of you hates me for it."

An enormous burst of anger caused her to shriek in agitation, kick her chair over in wild fury, and stomp upstairs to her room, leaving that painfully awkward silence behind her with those at the table. The slamming of her door echoed teasingly around the still seated crowd, even over Victoire's frightened cries.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading, my sweet!! Review if you wish, or whatever! I love you all!! 


	23. Fallen, Angels With Enemies

**A/N:** Okay, so this took me WAY too long to get out. I just couldn't bring myself to do it!! WRITER'S BLOCK PLUS COLLEGE STUFF EQUALS DEATH!!! ARRRG!!!! Buuuuuuut... I have good news!! I got into all the colleges I applied to!! Of course, that now puts me in the position of having so many schools to choose from that I don't know where I wanna go, and now I'm all confused!! But I think I know where I'm gonna go. I'm pretty sure, anyway. Almost positive. Woohoo!!

ANYWAY, the point is that this chapter failed me. I couldn't make it do what I wanted it to do, so I just let it be, and now I hate it. Ugh. So you're STUCK with it, I'm afraid. Took me... what... MONTHS to finally finish this little butthead, so even though I'm MAGNIFICENTLY unhappy with it, I'm giving up, and you're just gonna deal with it. Uuuuuuurg!! I just can't seem to making the end part of this story work for me, can I??? I'll admit, I'm getting a little drama-happy, and I apologize for that. I'm like pretty much addicted to the pathetically dramatic emotions, and I just can't get enough of 'em!! I'm sorry!! I know they're annoying, but indulge me!!

Well, enjoy the ridiculously LOOOOONG chapter! Or hate it. Whichever. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure most of you will absolutely DESPISE this chapter. I know I do, and probably for all the same reasons that you do! There's still a couple of more chapters to come, though, so don't give up yet!! And please don't hate me for taking so f-ing long to write this damned story!! Indeed, I give HUGE thanks to anyone who's actually bothering to stick with me through this thing!!

Hope you had a marvelous holiday!!

* * *

Ginny's eyes were aching. She was exhausted. Outside, the sun had already risen, and still she hadn't let her eyes close for sleep. She couldn't, not even though she'd been lying on her bed in contemplation since before dawn. Her brain was throbbing with muddling thoughts. The impossibility of having a baby growing inside of her was blazing in her mind like wild fire, and spreading rapidly as though through a heavily wooded forest. Her blinks were slow, for sleeplessness made her eyelids feel dry, swollen, and heavy. Every blink was something to dread, because with every moment of darkness behind her lids, more visions of Draco flashed within her sight—his hands, his arms, his chest, his lips, his tongue. She could feel him… she could feel him all over her like she was soaking in a tub of him, and she could feel him everywhere inside of her like he was an incurable virus. Him, her love for him, and everything they'd done in the past weeks. She could feel it all, filling her up, overwhelming all her thoughts and senses. 

The rays of sunshine pouring through her bedroom window made her heart pound with guilt. They teased her with the fact that it was a new day, and she still had not returned to the hotel where she knew Draco was still waiting for her. She could just imagine him pacing up and down in that spacious bedroom they'd shared in that romantic suite he'd paid for. He was probably wringing his hands, his brow creased furiously, out of his mind with paranoia and anger because she hadn't come back yet. Ginny had to swallow back the oncoming wave of anxiety that was threatening her heart as she pictured this. She shook her head, chewing her already chapped lip. Draco would never want a baby—especially one whose mother was a muggle-lover. He would go mad with disgust. He would probably blame her. He would probably be overcome with such disapproval that he would be unable to look at her the same way again. She didn't think she could stand that. She couldn't tell him.

The little part of her mind that knew she should tell him, however, was still making its persistent voice heard. She wished it wasn't. She wished things could just be simple, but nothing was ever simple when it came to Draco.

She breathed deeply through her nose, her quivering lips pressed tightly together in agitation as she sat slowly upright. Her neck was stiff.

The floor was warm against her bare feet. It was still hot, even though September had officially begun. Her mind floated back to the days when she would have been rushing to the Hogwarts Express at this time, but those days were over. It was the first time in seven years that she was not at Kings Cross on September first. The thought made her chest constrict with longing as she made her way downstairs. She didn't know what she was going to say to her family after last night, but she had to see them again. She wanted things to just be as normal as they could be. Maybe she could just apologize and move back in, and never face the horrifying prospect of hearing Draco's reaction to her situation. One oddly comforting thought to her was that this baby would forever be a souvenir of her short-lived time with the stupid Malfoy git she'd unfortunately fallen in love with, like the little fool she was.

Instinct drove her downstairs. She didn't know if she really wanted to talk to anyone yet, after her little outburst at dinner, but she thought she should. She really didn't know what she wanted anymore, but there surely couldn't be any harm in surrender and apology to people who deserved it, could there? Her insides felt surreally hollow, and it added to her confusion, making her feel ambiguous about absolutely everything—every breath, every touch of her toes to her floor, every creak of the floorboards, every whisper of her family in the next room where she was headed.

"Mum? Dad?"

It wasn't them. It was Ron and Hermione. They were sitting on a couch, talking in very fast, hissing tones. They both looked very anxious, and their whispers sounded strained, but Ginny couldn't help but notice that their knees were touching lightly, and that Hermione's cheeks were faintly pink. "Oh," Hermione said quickly as she spotted Ginny entering. She stood up. "Hi, Ginny. Um… how are you?"

"Uh… I'm okay," she said with a shrug. She kept her eyes on Ron, who remained in his seat.

"Why are you here?" he snapped, looking grumpy.

Ginny's temper was flaring again already, even after a mere second in Ron's furious presence, but she ignored it, trying to stay focused on the fact that she did need to apologize again… and more directly, too. "I wanted to tell you how sorry I was," she said flatly, but she meant it. At least… she thought she meant it. She certainly felt like she meant it, so she must have, but her mind was spinning so much, she just couldn't know what she was being honest about anymore. "For leaving you for all those weeks," she went on, "for leaving with your worst enemy, for never telling you what was going on in my life and what I was feeling, for not telling you I'm…" She broke off. "Y'know, I'm just… really sorry."

Ron continued to glare. He took a minute to answer. "And what about Harry?" he finally croaked. "Are you ever going to tell _him_ how sorry you are?"

"Of course," Ginny agreed without thinking. "He deserves that much from me."

"He deserves a lot more than that," Ron grumbled, "but yeah, he should hear you're sorry."

"I also wanted," Ginny added, turning to Hermione, "to say thanks… for being the only one who supported me through all this."

To Ginny's surprise, Hermione's face hardened. "That's only because I was the _only_ one you chose to come to. I was the only one who _could_ have supported you, and you _needed_ that support! But I'm not about to deny that I strongly detest your decision. I'll have you remember that Malfoy tortured me for _years_. It wasn't only Ron and Harry, you know, or did you forget? And Harry is _my_ best friend, too! And still you came to _me_, and dumped it all on _me_, so how could I _possibly_ turn you away? I didn't have a choice!" Ginny's heart was sinking fast, but she felt too dizzy and numb to really absorb all of what Hermione was saying. Still, Hermione gave her a rather grim smile. "I'm flattered you came to me, of all people, Ginny. I really am, but I'm not supportive of the decisions you've made. I want you to realize that. I'm doing my best to protect you from the people who'd put you down about it, because I _know_ you didn't mean to hurt anyone, but I'm not about to support someone like Malfoy, or your decision to run off with him, either. I need you to know that. I don't approve." Hermione looked very red as her outburst came to an end, as though it pained her to be that honest to someone she clearly thought was too sensitive to hear the truth. But Ginny was glad to hear it.

"Yeah," she told her friend. "I know that. I always knew you hated him, and I didn't think you'd stopped just because I had. It was just good to have your… y'know… whatever. Your non-support, I guess. What should I call it, then? Alright, so I just… thanks for your kindness, basically."

Hermione gave a single satisfied nod, and her tight-lipped smile softened to become friendlier, and less forced.

"I'm so sorry," Ginny said again, not knowing what else to say. "And Harry deserves to know it." She chanced a look at Ron. To her surprise, he was squinting thoughtfully at her, and his expression appeared almost sympathetic. "Are you going to stay mad at me forever, Ron?"

"Yes," he snapped, but he didn't look like he meant it. "The day I stop being furious about this is the day You-Know-Who returns to power."

"Ron, don't say that," Ginny pleaded. "That's mean."

"That's _mean_?" Ron repeated incredulously, raising his eyebrows and getting to his feet. "You have the nerve to run off with Draco Malfoy, and then tell me _I'm_ being _mean_? I can't believe you!"

Hermione looked frightened that another argument was going to break out, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ron, take it easy. She's trying."

"Yeah," Ron mumbled, looking awkward. "I know, I know," he said. He sat back down, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. Stress seemed to emanate contagiously from him. Ginny could feel her own tenseness increasing as she watched him. "Look, Ginny," he said, "I need to know… I just need to know if you're done with Malfoy, now. Honestly, that's just all I need to hear… that you're going to stop this foolishness, and not go back to him… not ever."

Ginny's said "Yes, of course," before had even stopped to consider the result of these words. The fact remained that she'd have done nearly anything she could to simply be back on good terms with Ron, the rest of her family, Hermione, and Harry. Harry… oh, Harry. "I don't want to choose," she admitted, "but you guys are so important to me, and Draco just isn't…"

"Good?" Ron spat, choosing her words for her. "Of course he isn't good. He's evil. He's foul. He's horrible. You deserve better."

"Yes," Ginny agreed numbly, not at all agreeing with him in her heart. Ignoring the pain of this lie was starting to work. It had to be working, didn't it? Surely it was working. Maybe it was working at least a little bit. With some time, maybe then it would work, she convinced herself. Staying away from Draco was simply what had to be done, whether she liked it or not, if she wanted her old, non-confusing life back. "Yes, you're right," she agreed once more, trying to sound believable.

Ron's expression was a transparent battle of feelings. He couldn't seem to decide whether Ginny deserved his fury or his pity more. "Well…good," he told her, sounding just as confused as she felt. "You don't deserve his crap."

"Yeah," she agreed again.

Ron turned away, his ears red. "You should have stayed with Harry," he grumbled softly into his hands. He didn't seem to realize he was saying it out loud.

"I miss him," Ginny said, unsure if it was true or not. She hoped it was true. She had been certain it was true, merely a day ago, but now she just didn't know. If she really missed Harry, it was nothing compared to how badly she missed Draco at the moment.

She blinked slowly, and in the seconds when her sight vanished beneath her eyelids, she saw Draco's deep, grey eyes pouring into her like a sweet, sweet poison. She looked back at Ron, her tormenting vision overwhelming her confusion even more.

"I was thinking of writing to him and asking him over," Ron told her tentatively. His kind, blue eyes were nervous and hopeful. Ginny couldn't say no to him.

She nodded, as though under the imperious curse. She wasn't ready to speak to Harry again, but maybe once she did, she could finally move on from the madness that was her love for Draco. "Yeah," she sighed, uncaring. "Sure. Sounds good."

"Yeah?" Ron asked, sounding disbelieving. His entire face seemed to light up with relief and happiness. "Oh, thank God," he sighed. His warm smile was like a flashback to Ginny's childhood, before Ron had gotten involved in Harry's business with You-Know-Who, before she or Ron had started dating… a smile from the days when they had been close siblings, like actual friends. For a moment, she remembered how it had been when they were the last ones at home, while the rest of their brothers had left for Hogwarts. She remembered those days when they had lolled around the house together, bonding like real friends. Those days had been good. There had been no You-Know-Who, no evil to worry about, and certainly no complicated romance. "You mean it, then?" Ron asked her. "Really? I can invite Harry over? Oh, this is excellent. He'll be so relieved. It'll be just like old times."

Ginny smiled weakly. "Yeah," she said, her throat very dry. "Yeah, I'm sure it will be." Her cheeks ached with the effort of holding up her smile as Ron stood again, and approached her with caution, extending a hand. She took it, feeling the warmth of his palm on hers. She continued to keep up her painful smile as he drew her into him, and hugged her closely. She placed her arms around his back, and embraced her brother lovingly. Her heart thudded gladly with the happy reconciliation, and at the same time, she felt flooded with shame that she'd had to lie to finally make peace with Ron. He pulled away, and scurried off in search of Pig, so he could send a letter to Harry. Hermione gave Ginny an encouraging smile, and grasped her shoulder as she passed her to follow Ron.

"I'm proud of you, Ginny. I know it's hard for you, but it's really for the best, you know," Hermione told her.

"Yes," Ginny said blankly. "Yes, it's for the best."

The moment Hermione was no longer in sight, Ginny's whole face went slack. The smile dropped, and she felt such relief at letting it go that her eyes stung with gratefulness. Tears streamed from them suddenly, and she let out a small noise of disbelief at her own stupidity. She wiped away the tears from her burning cheeks furiously. How could she show such pathetic weakness? She hated herself for letting go this way, especially here, where anyone could walk in and see it. Groaning in irritation at herself, she walked on shaking legs over to the couch on which Ron and Hermione had just been sitting. She shook her head, resting her face in her hands, leaning her elbows on her knees. Why did things have to be so complicated? Why couldn't the world just be simple, with a clear line between good and evil, and between love and hate? Why?

A moment later, Fleur's feet came into view as Ginny kept her eyes downcast. She looked up. Fleur was carrying Teddy in one arm, and Victoire in the other. She plopped Teddy down in Ginny's lap without even waiting for a protest, and sat down beside her, cradling Victoire. "What do you want?" Ginny asked her sister-in-law grumpily. She was trying to ignore Teddy's fingers which were twisting in her long hair already.

"You are moping far too much," Fleur said bluntly. "And I think it is silly for you to be so… downhearted about a pregnancy. You loved this Malfoy man, but you had to leave him, so you have done so! What is the problem, now? This child? There is nothing wrong with children. Pregnancy disagreed with me, but it disagrees with everyone… makes you fat and unhappy and very hungry and ill, but in the end…" Fleur held Victoire up to her face, and Ginny watched the glowing woman in amazement. "Besides, Bill has said that he and the rest of your family will be all too glad to be there for you. So why do you still mope?"

Though insensitive and harsh, Fleur was clearly trying to cheer her up, and Ginny appreciated the attempt. "I don't know Fleur," she told her with another aching smile. "Thanks for the kind words."

"It is nothing," Fleur said, flipping back her shining hair with a gesture like a supermodel. "I am simply wishing that all of this tension through the house would stop! I do not like all this anxiety, and I do not understand why such a huge deal is being made of your bad choices."

"Yeah, you and me, both," she said with a slight laugh.

"Hey, Ginny!" Ron had returned. "I sent an owl to Harry. I'm sure he'll be here as soon as he can."

"Oh, good," said Ginny, not really having much else to say to this fact.

Teddy had his little face buried in Ginny's chest. He was so warm against her, so innocent and sweet. She looked down at him. His hair was an ordinary light brown, at the moment. Ginny smiled at him. He grinned at her, so widely that his eyes squinted and his nose crinkled. Ginny giggled genuinely, and smoothed back his soft hair. "Gin," Teddy squealed, one small hand pressing into her free palm as though trying to give her a high-five. "Gin, Gin!"

"You see?" Fleur said to Ginny matter-of-factly, standing up as Bill entered. "You are good with children. You have nothing to worry about!"

"Uh huh," said Ginny. "Sure," she agreed, though her stomach was churning as she gazed down at the toddler in her lap. It would be only too soon before she would have a child of her own, just like Teddy, but with Weasley and Malfoy genetics instead of Tonks and Lupin ones. It was odd to realize that Teddy and the thing inside of her were related, however distantly. Their grandmothers were sisters, she realized. She didn't know what to feel about this. Of all the great wizards in the world, she would never have thought it would be Draco Malfoy to father her child. She had never even thought about having children with Draco. Harry had been the one she'd contemplated a future with… a future with children, and love. With Draco, she saw love, but he would never want children. But there was a child growing inside of her already… Draco's child… hers and Draco's child. It was so unreal.

"We are all here to help you, Ginny," Bill told her kindly. He had been watching her gaze thoughtfully at Teddy. "We're family. We're not about to let you deal with something like this all by yourself. I could never do that to my baby sister" He smiled encouragingly at her, his bright eyes twinkling.

"Thanks," was all she could respond with, and she truly meant it. She felt like if she tried to say much else, however, she might be sick. The thought of Harry arriving soon was absolutely torturous. How could she face him with this thing growing within her? Did she have to tell him? If she wasn't going to tell Draco… why did she have to tell Harry? Then again, she could avoid Draco, but Harry, on the other hand… he was her brother's best friend. He could not be avoided forever.

Ginny couldn't stand her own mind. Her thoughts were making her nauseous. "Hey, Bill," she said, deciding to make conversation to distract herself, "shouldn't you be at work? And Ron, too?"

"I'm on paternity leave," said Bill proudly. He seemed to glow as he said this.

Ron shrugged, his ears going slightly red. "Yeah, I took today off. I don't really feel up for training today. There's just… too much going on right now."

"Afraid to leave me?" Ginny asked, raising her eyebrows. "Are you afraid I'll run off again?"

"No," Ron snapped quickly. "That's not it at all."

"Sure it's not." Shaking her head, Ginny looked around for a clock. "What time is it?"

Mrs. Weasley entered, then. "It's about three in the afternoon, dear." Her expression was sympathetic as she gazed at her daughter. "How are you feeling, Ginny, darling?"

"I'm okay," Ginny lied. "Why didn't anyone come to get me for breakfast or lunch?"

"Well, we didn't want to disturb you, dear," her mother told her sweetly. "You need your rest, what with… everything." Mrs. Weasley's cheeks went pink. Ginny had the strangest feeling that her mother was almost ashamed to say it out loud. She knew they were all just trying to be nice to her, but she wasn't stupid. She knew they were all disgusted that her child was a Malfoy. It hurt, but she couldn't blame them.

She gave a small shrug. "Yeah, well, I'm fine."

"That's lovely," Mrs. Weasley said softly. "Good. I'm glad that you're fine."

The room was suddenly thick with awkward tension. Ginny scratched the base of her neck, feeling odd. "I'll just be… in my room, then," she said.

"No, no, don't go, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley implored. She appeared to be struggling not to leap forward and throw her arms around her daughter. "Stay. Can I make you some lunch?"

Ginny jerked her head vaguely. "I'm not really hungry." This wasn't really true. She hadn't eaten since dinner last night, when everyone had seemed to think she should kill her baby. But even so, she couldn't eat now. She thought she might throw it all back up if she tried. "But I'll stay if you want me here, I guess."

"Nonsense," her mother told her, dismissing her refusal for food. "Of course you're hungry. You haven't eaten since last night. Adult or not, I won't have hungry people in this house!" And at that, Ginny was shooed into the kitchen to sit, and Mrs. Weasley was already shoving plates of food at her.

To eat at last after all her tragic moping on an empty stomach was absolutely wonderful. Her spirits lifted as she ate with some of her family sitting around her, laughing and chatting happily, the way they had used to when things were normal, before she'd left. For a long while, it really felt that way again. Even when she had finished eating, and had pushed her plate from her, she did not rise and slink back to her room again, no. Now, she sat back in her chair, smiling in genuine enjoyment for what felt like the first time since she'd left Draco. It felt good to do. She missed smiling. Resting in a chair, and possessing a graciously full stomach, it was so much harder to be worried about anything, even her pregnancy. It was starting to feel so natural, now. She couldn't have negative feelings at the moment; she was too comfortable, and too happy to be surrounded by her wonderful, loving family. Maybe she really would never go back to Draco. Maybe it wouldn't be so difficult, as long as she had her family.

They had been talking for over an hour when Ron stood to retrieve a set of Exploding Snap from his room, and brought it back to the table. She wasn't keeping track of the time, for she was too glad to be so dissolved in this comfortable normality. She, Ron, Hermione, and Bill played for a very long time, laughing hysterically with amusement and joy. Mrs. Weasley and Fleur were deep in conversation about Victoire, while Teddy stumbled about the kitchen on his unsteady, chubby little legs. Mrs. Weasley had her watchful eye on him the whole time, even as she yapped with Fleur, making sure the little toddler didn't hurt himself.

It wasn't until the sky outside the window grew very dark, and Ron began glancing hopefully outside in search of anyone approaching, that Ginny remembered that Harry was invited over to see her. She felt very light-headed at the thought.

But as she prayed that maybe time would slow, or even stop, so Harry would never arrive, the crickets' chirping beyond the tauntingly dark window was suddenly broken by a crack that shook the air outside. Her insides went cold, though just a hint of fire exploded in the pit of her belly—the remnants of the excitement that she used to feel when she had longed for Harry, all those weeks ago.

The kitchen fell silent, and she could feel five pairs of eyes on her, watching her cautiously as though they were all afraid she would suddenly collapse or something. She felt more annoyed by everyone's attention than anything else. She was attempting to suppress her own terror of Harry's inevitable expression of disgust, remembering that she had already endured it, and that it couldn't be as bad to it the second time.

"That'll be Harry," Ron said unnecessarily, leaping to his feet. His ears were quite red. He shuffled awkwardly outside, as though he were struggling not to rush to his friend.

Within moments, he had returned, and there was Harry at his side. It was odd to see Ron looking so serious without being angry. "Uh…" he said, shutting the door behind them. "Uh… Harry, Ginny's come home." Ginny blinked at him as she got weakly to her feet. Her brother had a tendency for stating the obvious today, hadn't he?

She felt that to say hello was the best thing to do at the moment, but she wasn't sure she could speak properly. She pressed her lips together in a tight smile. She made a sound at the back of her throat as a greeting to her former fiancé. He looked beautiful, she thought, no matter how much she loved Draco. Harry's eyes were so green that it hurt, quite like the emerald encrusted _G_ that was still hanging from its silver chain around her neck. It was, of course, tucked safely within her shirt where no one could see it. Gazing at Harry now, her clothes felt oddly heavy. She became suddenly aware of the fact that she hadn't bathed in a while, that she was rather sweaty, and that her long hair was stringy and unkempt.

"Hey, Ginny," Harry said, his face blank.

"Hi," she choked.

"Finally come to your senses, have you?" he asked. His eyes narrowed, and his expression was dark, and almost cruel. Maybe it wasn't, actually. Maybe she was imagining it.

Ginny smiled shakily, and gave an indistinct jerk of her head that she hoped he understood to be a nod. She knew that after all this, she wouldn't be able to return to Draco, but she didn't know if she could handle that, either. Things were too complicated. She wished they weren't. She wished Harry would sweep her off her feet and make her love him again, but at the same time she wished he'd leave her alone so she could go back to Draco. She missed Draco. There was no denying it. But she missed Harry, too, she realized, watching him smile at her. "It's good to have you back, Ginny," he told her. "I can't imagine what you could possibly have been thinking to leave with… _him_," he spat, "but it's nice to know you're back. I'm glad you finally stopped thinking only about yourself. Your family was worried half to death about you. _I _was worried about you, too."

"I know, Harry," she managed to say. Her voice was surprisingly clear, and steady. "You've said all this before."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "but I didn't think you'd listen. I thought you might have been… I don't know… bewitched, or something."

"I told you I wasn't."

"How was I supposed to know that was the truth, though? I didn't think you'd actually listen to me, and come home. But you did." His expression was indiscernible.

Ginny nodded, her head throbbing with a mounting headache. "I did." She swallowed. "I love my family, and I love you," she said, though she didn't know what that was supposed to mean. "I realized that my family is just so much more important than…Malfoy." She had teetered for a moment on saying "my love for Draco," but thankfully restrained from it. She supposed the fact that she was in love with Draco wasn't something she should be reminding Harry of now that they were finally reunited, and he thought she had returned for good—which, she realized, was what she was trying to do. She _was_ trying to be back… for good. Her heart throbbed at the thought. No more Draco. It was a painful idea.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I'm so sorry, Harry… for everything."

"Yeah," he said, glaring at her. "That's good. You should be."

"Well, I am."

"Good."

A hollow sound distracted Ginny from the already awkward conversation. Someone was rapping sharply on the door. Mrs. Weasley jumped slightly. "Who on earth could that be?" She brushed Ron and Harry from the doorway, and put her ear to the wood. "Who's there?" she hissed suspiciously. No one answered.

"There's no reason to be so paranoid, mum," Bill reminded her. "The war is over."

"Yes, yes, dear, I know that. I just…" She wrinkled her nose at him, and resigned herself to opening the door. She opened it a crack, and gasped. "What do you…?"

"I've come for Ginevra," came the chillingly familiar voice. It was silky, and suave, and Ginny felt suddenly melted. Her knees gave out, and she sunk back into her chair at the sound.

She groaned. "No," she said aloud, not meaning to. "No, no, no. Why did he come?"

One of Harry's eyes was twitching. Ron was the approximate color of a beet. "What is he doing here?" he growled to no one in particular, and spun on the spot to face the partially open door. It was killing Ginny, knowing who was just beyond that crack, and not being able to see him. She missed him so much, even after only a couple of days. "Go away, Malfoy," Ron spat. "You're not welcome here."

"I wasn't asking you, Weasley," Draco snarled. "I wasn't asking anyone. It was not a question. I'm here to take Ginny back."

"Yeah, well, she doesn't want to go back with you," said Ron furiously.

Ginny kept quiet, as though hoping she'd simply sink into nothingness and vanish from the scene. It didn't seem to be working. The pounding of her heart was only growing louder, a steady drum slamming inside of her, driving her mad with terror and confusion. She could feel her pulse in every inch of her body. Was she going to explode? It certainly felt that way. Her anxiety heightened to an unbearable amount as Harry turned, shaking, and flung the door back.

There he was, in all his pale, menacing glory. He was beautiful—_so_ beautiful. He was so white against the dark night behind him that he appeared to cast an eerie sort of glow over Harry's dark stature. "Get out of here, Malfoy," Harry shouted. "Get out!"

Ginny remained rooted to the spot. Shock had her glued there. This was so sudden. This made no sense. Why would he do this? Why was he so _stupid_? Things had been nearing a return to normalcy. Why, then, would he show up like this, and ruin it all? _Why_?

"No, Potter," he hissed icily, "I don't think I will. Not until I get what I came for." Draco's eyes were cold slits of fierce grey, like offended daggers seeking their revenge.

"You're getting nothing, Malfoy," Harry said furiously, yanking out his wand. Draco removed his own wand from his pocket with refined grace. He was strikingly calm, though his expression was decidedly not. His eyes were raging in contrast to his composed movements.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Draco said, his voice low and slick.

"Why not, Malfoy?" Harry challenged. "I've been training for the past year to become an Auror, and what have you been up to? Slacking? Oh, that's right, and stealing all that I cared about!"

"You're pathetic." Draco was magnificently cool and collected. "Can't live without your woman? Tut, tut, Potter. You can't live without her, but I'm afraid that…" He broke off for a short moment as his gaze caught Ginny's. Her breathing grew shallow, and painful. He never took his eyes from hers as he finished, "well…_she_ just can't live without _me_."

It all happened so fast. All at once, Ron shouted, "You bastard," Harry's wand was forgotten as his fist collided with Draco's face, Mrs. Weasley screamed, Bill reached for his own wand, Fleur backed away as she gibbered to herself in rapid French, and Ginny remained plastered to her chair. Her heart might well have burst from her, but she couldn't move. She couldn't speak. She felt, too, like she couldn't even breathe. Her jaw had fallen open, and her eyes were stinging as they widened in horror, but she just couldn't budge. Too many feelings were racing inside of her, now, and she just didn't know what was what—good or evil, right or wrong… she just didn't know what she wanted, or what to do. All she knew was that there was a baby inside of her, and it was Draco's, and that she loved Draco, but she wanted Harry to love her, too. It was all just… so stupid.

Draco fell backwards, but threw out an arm and caught his balance on the doorframe. His wand flew from his hand. He was alone and unarmed before Harry, who had a wand, and was clearly vengeful. But Harry didn't at all seem to remember that he possessed a wand at all. He lunged at Draco like a furious animal, shouting various insults at him as he attacked. Draco was on his back in the dirt just beyond the door, clawing behind him for his wand while Harry's fists slammed repeatedly against him. Ginny was moaning in desperation. This couldn't be happening. It just _couldn't_ be. "No," she groaned, her knuckles shaking as they gripped the edges of her seat. "Why? _Why_?" Under Harry's weight, Draco seemed to forget about his wand, as well, and gave up his search for it. He reached upward, instead, attempting to fling Harry from him, though his tries were rather hindered by Harry's continuous punches. He, too, began throwing his fists into Harry's wild face.

"Break it up, you idiots!" Bill yelled, and this seemed to regain the lost attention of everyone surrounding the scuffle. Everyone had apparently been hypnotized by the suddenness of it all, but Bill's voice brought them all to life again, and Mrs. Weasley raised her own wand.

"_Petrificus totalus_!" she cried furiously. Harry and Draco both froze, straight as a board. Harry rolled from atop Draco, and lay motionless at his side. Mrs. Weasley was fuming, glaring at the both of them. "I will not have this nonsense in my house! You, Harry! I expected more of you. I expected you'd at least try to stay civil, but really… muggle fighting over a girl!" Her voice shook with absolute fury. "And you," she shrieked, turning on Draco. "Well… there's more I'd like to say to you than I could possibly say at the moment. You show up out of nowhere and interrupt my Ginny's wedding, steal her away from her fiancé, from her friends, from her family, and you then expect her to so quickly return to you once she'd finally come home? Even if she wanted to, do you _really_ think we'd let her? Do you really think we'd let you take her away from us again? You make me sick, Malfoy… you and your prejudiced family."

She waved her wand, and they both fell slack. Harry propped himself up on his elbows, panting, glaring at his folly, while Draco pushed himself to his knees, and stared up at Mrs. Weasley as though he'd never seen anything like her. His brow was furrowed. He seemed shocked that anyone would ever speak to him that way. "Get out of here," Mrs. Weasley hissed. Her quivering voice was very low, and full of resentment. "I don't ever want to see you on my property again. Do I make myself clear, young man?" She had never looked so serious, or so intimidating. Even Draco seemed unable to talk back to her, though perhaps it was only out of his strange respect for Ginny that he didn't. Maybe if they had never… then Mrs. Weasley would never have been able to maintain that power over him. He stood, glaring at her for several moments before his line of vision slid over her shoulder, and met Ginny's once more. His lip was bleeding, and there was a red scrape across his brow. Her heart broke to look at him.

"No," she said audibly, and they all turned to look at her. "No, Draco, don't go." Finally, though her legs felt like they had no strength, she stood.

"Ginny," Ron cried, "this is ridiculous! Get out," he added, turning back to Draco. "Leave, now, or I'll _make_ you."

"No, no," Ginny said weakly, tripping over her chair as she made to go around the table and get to Draco. "No, Draco, no… Ron, don't…"

"Ginny, sit back down," Ron demanded.

"Ginny, Ginny, listen," Bill pleaded, catching her by the arm and holding her back, "it's better this way!"

"No, Bill, stop it! Draco, please…" She struggled heartily to get to him, now. She needed to be with him. He was the father of her child. Why couldn't he know? Why wouldn't he be happy? He loved her! She could tell by the way he was staring at her with those thin, cold eyes that he loved her! He had to know, so that they could be happy! They had to be happy! They had to be together! "Draco… no…" she begged, pushing all her weight against Bill's restraining arms, but failing.

Draco still had his way blocked by the ever-imposing Mrs. Weasley, who still had her severe gaze upon him. "You are not getting in this house," she told him, her voice ringing loud and clear through the kitchen, even over Ginny's cries, which were picking up in volume. "You are not getting near my daughter." She raised her wand again. "Leave," she screeched. "_Now_."

Tears were blurring Ginny's vision. This was not fair! She had promised him she'd come back! She had promised! It was hardly a wonder that he'd come for her, then, because she had never come back! He loved her! This just wasn't fair! She was sobbing hard, now, and her strength gave out again as Draco turned away. "No," she sobbed. "No, no, no. Please."

"I'll go," Draco said coolly, bending to retrieve his wand from the dirt. He brushed it off on his already smudged robes. He looked back at her. "You said you'd come back." Ron turned to glare at her, too, his horrified expression making heat rise in Ginny's cheeks with guilt. "You never did," Draco pointed out. "Can you blame me for coming?"

Through her sobs, Ginny couldn't express any proper words. Draco glanced warily at Mrs. Weasley's outstretched wand. He seemed to be resigning himself to defeat. What chance did he have against her entire, vengeful family? "If I can't have you," he sighed quietly, "then there's really nothing left for me, is there?"

Ginny sunk into Bill's arms and her sobs blocked out the sound of Draco's departure. "I hate you," she sobbed, but it wasn't comprehensible. She didn't even think it was actually true. "I love him, and you won't let it be." Bill merely hugged her to him, and shushed her.

"It's alright, Ginny," he said. "I promise, it'll all be alright. It's better this way. What kind of father would he make, anyway?"

"Father?" Harry's voice rang from the still-open door. "What do you mean 'what kind of father would he'…?" No one said anything, but Hermione whimpered from the wall behind Ginny. She had made herself invisible throughout the entire interaction, apparently. Harry seemed to understand. "Oh," he said quietly. Ginny looked up at Harry from Bill's robes, but had to look away again when she met his disgusted expression. It was too painful. "Oh," he said again. He seemed at a loss for words. After another moment's awkward silence, he slid into the next room without another glance at Ginny, or at anyone.

Ginny continued to cry against her oldest brother. She could hear Victoire crying in the background, and Teddy sniffling. This was just ridiculous, she decided. There was no way she could stay here. She hated her indecisiveness, but she just couldn't stay here. She couldn't part with Draco on those terms. Maybe she could go to him, and explain everything, and maybe he wouldn't mind a child with her. Maybe they could be a family. Maybe it could all work out.

Her tears weakened as she came to her decision: at her next opportunity, she would leave here, and return to Draco. They would stay together, and be happy. Things would work out. They _had_ to.

She wanted that happy ending, no matter how impossible it surely was.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading!!! Sorry for how depressing this stupid f-ing story is getting. Uuuurg. I'm gonna shoot it. I'm really hating how it's turning out. Oy gevalt. Don't worry, though. There'll be slightly more fluff in the next chapter. Just a little, though, and then it'll go all downhill from there. Waaaaaah!!! This is awful!!!! I'm so sorryyyy!!! 


	24. Die Alone, Always

**A/N:** If you want the story to have a perfect ending, where everyone accepts each other and makes up and is happy forever, then you might as well stop reading now. I swear, I will try to make the story have a happy end... ish... But for now, this is what's happening, and I know it's gonna piss of a whole truckload of people, so I'm warning you all now, before you stumble blindly into the angst that was once my cute little story. Good lord, what has happened to my poor fanfic?! Waaah!! I'm so ashamed.

This chapter really KILLED me to write. I hated it. Horribly. But it felt like it was coming, oddly enough. Don't hate me for it, please! And don't worry, because I really, really DO want to try to have it end happily, okay?! DON'T GIVE UP ON ME JUST YET!! THERE'S MORE TO COME!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! I can't believe 2007 went so quickly. Wow. And now 2008 approaches speedily, taunting me with the ominous prospect of GRADUATION, and COLLEGE. Oh, joy. Eep.

* * *

When Mr. Weasley returned home, he found a scene of shocked silence. "Good lord, Molly… what's happened here?" He mopped his brow with his sleeve nervously as his eyes fell upon Ginny and her tear-stained face. She had stopped crying, now, but had resigned to sitting again, lost in thought, staring blankly into space, and not noticing anyone around her. 

Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to know how to answer. "Oh, dear, it's been a terrible ordeal, tonight," she said. "It's quite… well… it's been a very…"

"Harry showed up, and about two seconds later, Malfoy showed up, too," Ron interrupted. He had shuffled back in without anyone noticing. A mere moment ago, he'd been talking with Harry in the next room. "It's been a right soap opera in here. That's what's happened. Malfoy cheeked Harry, Harry beat him up, Malfoy scampered, and Ginny started crying."

"Thank you, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley snapped sarcastically, "for breaking things down so simply." She began to fuss over her husband, taking his coat and starting to force a dinner plate at him.

Mr. Weasley gulped anxiously, peering over his spectacles at Ginny as he sat down opposite her. "My goodness," he sighed empathetically. "Ginny… are you alright?"

She shrugged, not knowing how else to respond. How could she tell him that she was already planning to leave this chaotic house and return to Draco again? How could she say that without another riot starting up once more?

"You know," her father told her consolingly, "I don't believe you'd have had any proper future with that young Malfoy character. He wouldn't have made a very good father, either way, and you deserve someone who would give you a good family, don't you?" Ginny nodded simply, though she didn't mean it. She had herself hopelessly convinced Draco would be a good father. Still, Mr. Weasley's words were ringing in her head, even as she tried to push them away.

Ron scoffed. "Yeah, and speaking of that," he piped up, "Harry's distraught."

Ginny's temper flared unexpectedly through the blurry coating of her rather stubborn apathy. "Well that isn't my fault," she snapped. "It's not my fault I got… and I can't help it if he's going to be pissed about something I couldn't help."

"Yeah, well, you _could_ have helped it," Ron mumbled irritably, and Ginny's face flushed hot. She knew he was right. She _could_ have helped it. She had just never thought that this could have happened… certainly not to her, and _certainly_ not with Draco.

"Now, now," Mrs. Weasley said warningly, her voice rising in pitch. "Let's not start accusing each other of things again, please. Let's just try to find a way to get around the problems we're currently faced with." She scurried nervously about the kitchen, preparing food for Mr. Weasley as Ron slouched angrily back to Harry in the other room.

Ginny stood. "I'm, uh… I'm going to go to bed," she said swiftly, turning to go.

"Oh, don't go," Mrs. Weasley pleaded. "This has all been exceedingly stressful, I know, but we don't mean for you to…"

"No, really," Ginny assured her firmly. "I didn't sleep last night. I lay awake the whole time, and then came downstairs after a while. I haven't slept in over twenty four hours." And now that she thought about it, Ginny realized how tired her body really was. She was aching all over, and her eyes were barely staying open. "I need to sleep."

Though Mrs. Weasley looked disappointed, she nodded. "Yes… alright, dear," she said kindly. "You get some rest, now."

"I'll try," Ginny told her mother. "Thanks." She turned, and went.

Her drowsy walk back up to her room made her even more prepared for sleep. Her entire body felt weighed down with lead. Her thighs burned as though she'd been running, and her eyelids were drooping. She could hardly see. The moment her knees made contact with the soft corner of her bed, she fell forward, and instantly sunk into an uneasy, disturbed sleep.

* * *

When her eyes fluttered open again, she felt quite ill. Her head was still pounding from the incident with Draco and Harry. She felt dizzy and sick with confusion and irritation. But her mind was still made up. She was to return to Draco today and convince him to forgive her for leaving him, and convince him that a child would not be so bad. She was to convince him to stay with her through it all, and convince him that she trusted him enough to be a good father—though she wasn't even entirely sure she believed that, herself. Not honestly, anyway, even though she told herself she believed it. She hoped he would be a good father. Surely he would be… wouldn't he? 

Ginny sat upright, blinking away her tiredness. Her room looked darker than it usually did in the mornings. She was still excruciatingly exhausted, as though she hadn't actually slept at all, so it took her a few minutes to realize that the sky beyond her window was still navy. Though stars were twinkling, it was a particularly dull, gloomy night sky. She rubbed her eyes, staring sadly out at it. She hadn't even slept through the night. Her body couldn't even wait long enough to let her sleep; it wanted Draco too badly, she supposed.

Her greedy body fidgeted. She was restless, though still so tired. She wanted to get back to Draco, and she wanted it now. She couldn't stop her craving for him.

It was no good, Ginny decided, attempting to lie back down and sleep again. She knew she wouldn't be able to. It was pointless, too, to try staying awake and waiting for the opportune moment to up and leave for that hotel in France again. She would get bored and surely go mad with anxiety and restlessness by the time her family trusted her enough to leave. She had to act now.

Barely thinking, she stood, feeling a little unsteady on her feet, but ignoring that as she walked to her dresser to retrieve some clean robes. She was too tired to notice exactly what she was picking out, but as soon as she was clothed, she gathered up her wand and her hotel key, stowed them in the pocket of her fresh robes, and stumbled to her door, all ready to take off again. Perhaps if she had not been so stubborn, or so tired, she may have thought twice, and maybe stopped to leave a note, or waited to say goodbye. Maybe she would have even changed her mind, understanding the reasonable truth, and accepting it, no matter how heart-breaking it was. But she couldn't. Not in her current state. Perhaps it wasn't her even state at all, though; perhaps it was simply her nature—hard-headed and rash.

She slipped through the silent house unnoticed. The Burrow was slightly eerie this late at night, with no sound but chirping crickets, and no light save for the smallest drop of moonlight that had slithered in though a window. She ignored the chills that crept up her spine as she tiptoed through the musty silence, and made her way out the front door. The darkness and the quiet were rather suffocating as she stepped outside into the yard, and shut the door behind her slowly so as not to wake anyone inside. Ginny walked a little way, her thighs quivering, until she felt that she was far enough away that the sound of her disapparating could not be heard from within the Burrow. When she had reached her desired distance, she shook her head, and opened her eyes wide. She had to wake up a little more if she wanted to concentrate well enough on the trip so she wouldn't splinch herself. She shivered at the thought, blinking very hard in an attempt to rid her eyes of their tiredness. She shook her arms out, and stretched her neck, trying to regain a bit of a focused state. Praying she'd be alright, she shut her eyes tightly, and spun into blackness.

When the air around her was no longer compressing her, and when she could finally breathe properly again, she opened her eyes. The hotel lobby was very bright compared to the yard she had just left. She searched herself fearfully, and sighed with relief to find that no part of her was missing. She checked in quickly, and hurried upstairs. Her heart was drumming madly inside of her, wild with anticipation. She couldn't wait to see Draco again, and to make up with him.

She knocked rapidly upon the door to their suite. There was no answer. Anxious to get in, she pulled out her key from her pocket, and fumbled in the lock for a moment before the door finally swung open. All the lights were off. Only the unceasing candles around the main room were burning, but no other lights shone in the entire suite. She breathed in the familiar scent of Draco that lingered around the place. She felt like she was sinking back into that love for him all over again as she inhaled deeply. "Draco?" she called, her needy voice cracking with anxiety. She got no response. This was worrying. "Draco," she called again, "are you here?"

No answer came. She wandered lazily into the bedroom. No one was there. She sighed disappointedly. The covers of their bed were rumpled, and the air in the room smelled so much of Draco that it was overwhelming to Ginny's senses. She fell face-forward onto the bed, inhaling the scent hanging about the pillow. Her eyes closed gently, and her breathing grew slow. "Draco," she whispered, wading in her sweet memories of him. She wished he was here. She missed him so much. Why wasn't he here? Where was he, if not here? She sighed. She tried to open her eyes, but they felt glued shut, now. The comfortable fluffiness of the pillow and the bedding around her were so inviting, and she found herself suddenly swept away by the sensations. She gave a tiny groan of longing, and curled up into a snug ball, regretting her decision to lie down, for now she couldn't bring herself to leave the bed. Giving in, she drifted into an extremely cozy sleep—one much more peaceful than her last experience.

* * *

A distant noise roused Ginny from her deep sleep. Confused, she buried her face deeper into the warmth of the pillow, mumbling sounds against the fabric. "Ginny?" 

_That voice_, she thought,_ is so familiar_.

Her eyes snapped open as though she'd been smacked, realizing what was happening at last. She scrambled into a sitting position, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She was facing the enormous window, which was blindingly bright. Pushing herself to her feet slowly, she twisted around, her lips slightly parted in surprise, although she should have expected it. There he was, on the other side of the bed, staring at her. "Draco," she stated simply in greeting. The bed between them made things slightly awkward. She wanted to have her arms around him again, not be separated like this. "Draco," she said again, her face starting to split into a wide grin as she made her way around the bed. "Draco, it's…" She was preparing to say something about how wonderful it was to see him again like this, but then she caught sight of his face close up. "Oh my god! Draco, what's happened to you?" He continued to say nothing. His eyebrows were bent together furiously in a hardened expression, as though he were contemplating the meaning of hatred. Ginny stepped very close to him. "Draco," she whispered, right in front of him, "what happened?"

Draco looked far worse than he had when he'd left the Burrow last night. Not only was his lip still bleeding and his brow scraped, but there were purple bruises spreading over his entire face, now. A trickle of blood had dried at the corner of his mouth, and his hair was caked with dirt and blood. A cut across the bridge of his nose was still bleeding freely. There was blood on his neck, as well, and all down his robes. His knuckles were worn and bloody, too. "Draco," Ginny whispered, sounding absolutely terrified, now, "tell me what happened." Her eyes were wide, and wet with tears of horror and worry. For a long minute, Draco still said nothing, gazing stubbornly into her emotional expression with cold, defensive unconcern.

At long last, he sighed, and his eyes softened as he reached out, and took her in his arms, crushing her head to his chest as though she were his life support. She slid her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly, wanting to never let go, and hoping that he never would. He drew a shuddering breath. "I thought," he began slowly, his voice shaky, "that it was all over. I thought that your family really had you trapped there, or that you'd decided you'd really rather be with… them… than be with me." Ginny didn't know what to say. For a while, there, she _had_ been thinking that she'd be better off with her family, and her guilt made her cling to him more desperately. "I had to come. I'm so sorry. I _had_ to. You left, and said you wouldn't be very long, but you were there almost two days, and I…" He swallowed hard, his rough hands shaking on her back as he held her possessively. "…I needed you back. I really thought you'd decided to stay, and weren't coming back, and I just… I had to make sure it wasn't true. But after… last night… I thought it really _was_ true. I thought it was really over, and I actually had nothing left for me. After that, I returned home in defeat." Ginny pulled her head away to look up at him with shock.

"You… _what_?"

"I went back home, yes," Draco assured her, pressing her head back down as though he was afraid to have her look at him directly. "I thought if I really had nothing else to lose, I might as well try to regain some part of my old life. So I did."

"And?"

Draco snorted. "You saw my face. You can imagine my father's reaction when I arrived on his doorstep with a bloody lip, half in tears, looking like the shameful disappointment of a son that I am."

"_He_ did this to you?" Ginny pulled away in horror. Her lip curled in disgust at the sight of Draco's bloodied face. "That loathsome little…" she muttered. "I can't believe… your own _father_!"

An odd shiver passed over Draco's features. "Yes," he said. "My _father_."

"Draco," she sighed, trailing her hands from around his back to his chest, then lightly up his bruised neck. "That's… I thought you said you weren't abused."

"I'm not," he said defensively, his hands slinking over her arms to cup her fingers on his cheeks. "I guess I just never realized exactly what my father was capable of, and how easily he could snap. I guess I didn't know how serious he was about his hatred for mudbloods and mudblood lovers. I suppose I deserved it, then."

"No, Draco," she whispered heatedly, her eyes full of tears. "You don't deserve this. No one deserves this." She swallowed miserably, sympathy clogging her throat, and making all her words sound choked and tragic. "You really think you deserve to be beaten… because you were with me?"

"Don't I? You're a blood traitor." He looked so serious.

She let her hands slip from his grasp, and fall to her sides. His fingers grasped the air helplessly for a moment, shaking, before he let them drop, too. Ginny backed several feet away from him. "I'll never understand the strange hold your father's got on you, Draco," she told him. "I'll just never understand it."

"Is it any different than the hold your family's got on you?" Draco countered. "They want to possess you, so you can never contact anyone who might have been a Death Eater." He stowed his left arm behind his back shamefully as he spoke, though his face showed no care. "They want to prevent you from ever being with a Death Eater, and my family just wants to prevent me from being with a blood traitor. Is there really any difference?"

"Yes," Ginny snarled. "My family would never perform violence against me just because I left them for someone I loved—Death Eater or not. _Yours_, though," she said spitefully, glancing his beaten form up and down, "apparently wouldn't mind."

Draco's expression was icy. "You little bitch," he said, his voice dangerously low. "I love you with all that I have, and all that I am, and still you insult my family. The Weasleys may be pure by blood, but in reputation, they're as bad a family of mudbloods. The Malfoy family has always lived up to its unsoiled reputation, until _you_ came along and ruined it for us. Can you really blame my father for being furious about that?"

"Yes, I _can_!" Ginny shouted, losing it completely, now.

"Then you have reason, too, to blame your _own_ family for being furious about my presence in your life! We're all the same! _You_ taught me that."

"Yes, but _my_ family didn't beat the bloody daylights out of me!" Ginny shrieked. "_Look_ at yourself, Draco! Anyone who was just angry, and wanted to protect you from a bad reputation couldn't do that to you. Your father doesn't _care_ about you! Don't you see? He's just _insane_!"

Draco lunged at her, his eyes raging, his tone no longer low and restrained. He was wild. "Don't talk about him that way!" His wide hands clamped themselves around her upper arms, and he shook her hard. "How _dare_ you disrespect my father like that!"

"Look at what he's _done_ to you, Draco! _Look_ at yourself!" she cried, her tears overflowing at last and pouring down her cheeks. "You're so beat up! You're out of your _mind_, Draco! How could _anyone_ who does that to you… particularly your father… _ever_ keep your respect?"

"_Shut up_!" he roared. "Shut _up_! _Stop_ it!" His eyes were sparkling. His face was deeply creased with intense emotion. "Shut up," he yelled again, his voice just as loud, but his fervor weakening. He blinked, and his eyelashes were soaked with restrained tears. "Shut up."

Ginny's chin was quivering. Her heart felt stretched to its limit. "I love you Draco," she whispered shakily, and that seemed to break him. His hands still clutching her arms tightly, he dragged her into him, and slammed his mouth against hers. It was bliss. His mouth was so soft, but so wild, and the sweetness of his tongue was her much needed antidote. She felt wonderful—free, and comfortable, and complete. She tasted the blood on his lips, and the blood that stained his teeth and tongue. She groaned against his mouth, pleasure overwhelming her as he backed her greedily onto the bed. She shook beneath him, feeling that vicious fire sparking between them again. Her entire body was alight with that flame, that excitement. His lips trailed to her neck, streaking his blood across her jaw and throat. He kissed her tenderly there for a moment, making her sigh pleasurably, then gave into his own desires, and devoured her flesh roughly with his mouth and tongue. "Oh god," she breathed, "Draco."

"It feels like it's been forever," he sighed against her skin as he pulled her robes away and let his lips adore her naked breasts. His hands attacked the soft flesh of her thighs, while hers tore his tattered robes from his muscular figure. His torso was bruised, but it was just as strong as ever. He had her pinned to the bed, his powerful chest crushing her body as his hands moved upward between her shivering legs.

She was writhing under his controlling grasp. "Careful," she moaned, but her mind was too lost in the overwhelming delight of his fingers inside of her to notice what she was saying. His whole body was absolute luxury, and her legs could not stop thrashing ecstatically as he pleasured her. "Please," she groaned. Her voice was thick with need. He was teasing her. "_Please_, you bastard."

He sniggered, his lips twitching with amusement. One of his hands found the roots of her hair, and he forced her head back. She bit her lip, grinning mischievously at him, reveling in the pain of his force. "What did you call me?" he asked her mockingly.

"Bastard," she repeated, laughing the word in his face. She tasted his breath on her tongue as he leaned closer to her. When she licked her lips, she tasted his blood, and shivered, groaning with excitement.

"I thought so," he grunted, his eyes narrow and his lip curled in a determinedly vicious sneer. He captured her lips again with his as he shoved himself within her. She squealed helplessly through her full mouth. She was breathless with desire, so glad to be full of him again.

She was surely on fire, she thought, as he thrust repeatedly into her body, crushing her pelvis, and making her legs exceedingly sore. When he let go of her mouth, she cried out. He was groaning deeply, his eyes shut tight with pleasure. The whole world seemed to belong to them for a moment as their bliss heightened, exploded, and then finally crashed back down to earth. He collapsed above her. Both of them were panting madly, and sweat was sliding between their naked bodies.

"Thank god you're back," Draco breathed into the nape of her neck, sending a shiver across her burning skin.

Ginny smiled. "I know it's only been a couple of days, but… it's good to be back." He lifted his head from her shoulder, and held himself above her with his elbows. She leaned upward, and kissed him gently. She could still feel his blood on her lips, but she didn't care. The kiss was wonderfully tender, and sweet, and it made her happy. She had missed this content feeling that only came from being with Draco. She grinned against his warm mouth. "I've missed you," she said, reaching up to touch his bruised cheek gingerly. Her heart throbbed painfully for him. She shook her head. "I can't believe you went back there, after what he did to you _last_ time. I can't believe you'd trust him again."

Draco grumbled in irritation, and rolled off of her to lie at her side. "I don't trust him, but he's my father, and he's entitled to do what he wants with me."

"You don't believe that," Ginny sighed.

"I beg to differ," Draco snapped, sitting up again.

A minute passed in silence before Ginny sighed again. "I don't understand you, Draco," she said sadly, sitting up beside him. "I don't suppose I ever will."

"It's probably best that you don't," Draco spat angrily. His expression had hardened again. He placed his face in his hands, and his elbows rested on his knees. The lovers fell silent once again. For a long time, they simply sat there, each lost in their own thoughts. Ginny's mind was reeling. She had to tell him soon. She had come back so that she could tell him, and make sure that he wouldn't mind it. She had come back to make sure that he loved her, and would take care of her and any child of theirs. But she didn't know how to tell him. How was she supposed to tell a man who'd just been beaten by his father that he was about to become a father, himself? Was there even a tactful way of doing it? She wondered. It had to be done sensitively, she reasoned, but she just didn't know how to drop something that big on a guy _sensitively_. So far, her attempts at handling these things well had failed. Telling her family had been a disaster, and Harry's finding out had been an accident. She didn't know how it was ever done properly.

Ginny took a deep breath, deciding that she at least had to start somewhere. "You know," she began nervously, "I think you'd be a much better father than your father ever was to you." She bit her lip, anticipating his response.

Draco snorted. "Somehow I doubt that," he scoffed, lifting his head from his palms. "Any child of mine is in for a world of disappointment. I left my own family; how could I possibly know how to hold a family with a child together?" He wrung his hands, staring spitefully down at them. "I hate my father," he muttered, "but I respect him, and he's the only example that I have. I'm so afraid that I'd…" He broke off, shaking his head. As though to give his hands something to do, he placed his forehead in their clutches again. "I don't know what I'd do. I could never be a father," he finished tragically. When he turned his head slightly in his hands, Ginny noticed that his eyes were very red. Her heart sunk.

"You… would really never want children?" she inquired, her voice broken with sorrow. Her cheeks were stinging with the effort of holding back more threatening tears. "Really? Never?"

He shrugged, pulling his face up once again. "I guess not," he said vaguely. "Would you really want a bunch of little brats running around that look just like you, clinging to your legs and stealing all your time, money, food, and affection? Sounds good at first, but then they grow up, defy you, and all you want is to just teach them a little lesson, but that just blows up in your face and they leave with a girl you most certainly would never approve of. Does that sound like much fun to you?"

Ginny cleared her throat, and shrugged as well. "I don't know. I always kind of… liked the idea of children. Besides… I saw how you were with Teddy. You're good with kids. They like you. It's like a natural talent."

"They like me, but I've never liked them much."

"Oh please. I saw your face light up when you were looking at Teddy. It was an instant bond. I think you'd be good with children of your own."

He gave a laugh, and sat back, leaning on one arm while the other hand explored his various bruises. "I think I'd be good with just about anyone's children but my own."

Ginny sniffed miserably. "I don't believe you," she sighed. "I think having kids would do you some good."

"Yeah, well you also say you love me, so you clearly don't have very good judgment anyway," Draco told her mockingly.

Ginny didn't know what else to say. She supposed she should just tell him. Just get it out there… quick and clean, so she could stop worrying about his reaction and just get it over with. But she couldn't. She continued to stall.

"Well if you ever _did_ have kids… you'd want pure blooded ones, I'm guessing?" she asked, trying to sound uninterested and simply friendly.

"I wouldn't want kids, but… yeah," he replied with a shrug. He was suddenly glaring at her suspiciously.

"You really don't want children, huh?"

Draco sat up straighter. "Ginny," he said seriously. "Are you telling me you _want_ children? With _me_? Because that's what it sounds like."

She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She bit her lip. Her heart was hammering. It was starting to ache.

"You want children with _me_? Oh, Ginny, any child of mine would be… would be _tainted_! The… the thing would be half _Malfoy_! _MALFOY_!" he shouted. "We're a family of bloody Death Eaters, don't you get that? I _can't_ have children! Get your head out of this fantasy world it's in! Any child of mine would be practically _cursed_! With the reputation my family's got… I don't want any child to grow up with that reputation in this world. It just… Ginny, stop _fantasizing_! You… you think it'd be nice, do you, to have kids and grow old with me, but… well, maybe I _would_ want to spend my life with you, but… do you even realize what any kids of ours… I'd _kill_ the brats! I'd _kill_ them! I'd… I don't know what I'd do… I'd… and _you_! You'd brainwash them into thinking that mudbloods were all good and normal, and deserve love and respect, and… oh, there is no way in _hell_ I'd let any children of mine be blood traitors. They'd be _Weasleys_! Do you even realize how… how _sick_… and how _wrong_ it would be, a… a hybrid of a _Malfoy_ and a _Weasley_? Forget about it. Just…"

"I'm pregnant," Ginny whispered in the midst of his ramble. She wasn't even entirely sure that he heard her for a moment, but then he stopped, his face deathly white.

"You're…" His grey eyes were wide, shining, and very bloodshot. His brow was low and brooding. His lips were slightly parted in surprise and horror. "You're…"

"Yeah," she sighed. So much for being sensitive about it.

"But… _how_?" he choked, looking sick.

Ginny cleared her throat and looked down at her hands. She had been absentmindedly picking at her cuticles, and now her pinky nail was bleeding. "Um… I think you know _how_, Draco."

"I know… _physically_ how…" he said evasively, "but…"

"Yeah," she agreed. "It was a shock to me, too."

He stood suddenly. Ginny looked up again and noticed that his limbs were shaking furiously. "Get rid of it," he said.

"_What_?" she gasped, her blood running cold.

"I don't care how you do it, but get rid of it. I don't know if there's a… a potion, or maybe a spell… I don't know, I'm not familiar with these things, but… just… get rid of it." His expression was melting quickly from one of shock and horror to one of pure, unadulterated disgust and hatred. "There is no way I'm letting you have a baby of mine."

"But… Draco, you can't be…"

"Didn't you hear _anything_ I just said?" Draco shouted, a vein throbbing in his temple. His fingers were tangled in his mussed hair. A muscle was working madly in his cheek as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.

"Yes, I did, but none of it made sense! You're not being _sensible_ about this!"

"Not being… I don't _care_! I don't _want_ the thing! You're getting rid of it, and that's that!" His face was very red, now.

"But… I don't know if it's even _possible_ to get rid of it… magically, anyway. I've never heard of any ways…"

"Then just… keep it… away… from me," he rumbled through gritted teeth in a low growl, looking positively ferocious as he glared at her, fuming like an enraged beast.

Ginny's heart was breaking along an invisible seam. "Draco… but… Draco, what is _wrong_ with you?" she cried, tears coming down like waterfalls, now.

"I won't have it!" Draco shrieked. He was yelling like a madman, thrashing about as well. "_I won't have it_!" he yelled again, kicking the wall. He kicked it over and over again, roaring insanely, until he created a small hole. He was panting. "It cannot be!" he shouted. "I can't have children! I _can't_! _I won't_!" He was like a toddler having a mad tantrum, but at his age, it was so much more dangerous than it would be coming from a toddler. Ginny backed up to the headboard, cradling her knees, watching him in horror, hoping his rage would cease eventually. "I hate this!" he cried. "I hate _him_! How could _I_ be a father?_ HOW_? I would _ruin_ the child! I would _ruin it_! And I would _surely_ hurt it… the way my father's hurt _me_!" He kicked the bedside table, and with another roar of fury, lunged toward Ginny again, who shrieked and moaned with terror. He grabbed hold of her upper arms once more, clutching her where she sat. "Don't you understand?" he raged. "I DON'T WANT TO BE LIKE HIM!"

"Then you don't _have_ to be," Ginny sobbed timidly. "Please, Draco, it'll be alright! You don't have to be like your father!"

"But I _will_ be like him! I _WILL_! It's inevitable! He's all I know! He's all I have! This is what I am, and I can't change it for some kid!"

"But you've _been_ changing!" Ginny pleaded. "You've been doing so well! You were changing for _me_… why can't you do the same for our child?"

"I can't!" he shouted in her face, shaking her. "I can't! I _can't_ be a father! I _can't_! I don't want to hurt anyone, but I know that I will! I _will_, and it can't be helped!"

She put her hands up between them, trying to push him off of her, but he was too big, and his hold was too firm. "Draco," she cried, "please just let go of me, and calm down!" She was desperate, now. "Please, Draco! I want to help you! Just calm down!" She pushed his arms away from her, but his hands quickly got a hold of her wrists, and he clasped them tightly to his chest as he glowered at her.

"You don't understand," he yelled. "After everything that I've done in my past... after... _everything_... and you still don't understand? _Why don't you understand_?"

"I _do_!" she cried, just trying to make him get off of her, now, though she really didn't understand his reasoning at all. "I understand! It'll be okay!"

"HOW will it be okay?" he shrieked. "_HOW_? You'd better keep the bloody thing away from me, but if you do that, we won't be together, and HOW will things be okay if we're not together?" He was shaking her hard, now, her wrists still in his grasp. Her shoulders were aching from the position he had her trapped in. She could feel her wrists bruising as he continued to shake her.

She was sobbing hard. "Stop it, Draco! _Stop_ it! Now you're hurting me! Get _off_!" But it was no good. His grip was strong.

"I always end up HURTING PEOPLE!" he roared, letting go of her at last with a violent swinging motion that threw her from her spot. She tumbled off the bed, crashing into the already broken bedside table. She took some splinters in her side, and her face collided with the floor. She felt a trickle of blood at the side of her mouth. Shock stopped her crying. Shards of glass from a shattered lamp impaled her hands and knees as she crawled about on the floor, trying to find her robes where she'd stored her wand. She was sore all over, wincing in pain and absolutely agonizing disbelief and horror. Her entire world was collapsing around her. The sounds of Draco's rage had quieted, and she looked up from the pile of robes she was searching. Her hand was shaking around her wand, but she did not use it just yet. Draco had backed himself against a wall. His eyes were wide as he stared down at Ginny's quivering figure. He was panting. He looked quite as horrified as Ginny did. "I always end up hurting people," he repeated in a hoarse whisper. His voice was full of shame, and his expression was guilt-ridden.

He didn't seem like he was about to explode again, so Ginny got slowly to her feet, pulling her robes with her from their heap on the floor. She yanked them on over her head, keeping a wary eye on Draco's breathless form. He was still gazing at her, his eyes clouded over with self-loathing. Ginny shook her head at him. "And whose fault is that?" she asked him rhetorically. "Your father's?" she suggested. Draco gulped. "Or yours?" He looked down at his hands, his bruised and muscular shoulders heaving.

"This is why," he said quietly. His voice shook. "This is why… I told you… that long time ago, I told you… it would be better… for both of our sakes… if we didn't have feelings for each other. This is why. Because everything I touch ends up getting hurt, and it's… all my fault."

A strength Ginny once had but had lost when she'd fallen in love with Draco felt suddenly rekindled. It fueled her to pull out her wand and point it threateningly at Draco. "You're _horrible_," she spat. She inched toward the door with her wand still on him. Their eyes remained locked the entire way. She paused, feet from the doorway. Her hands were shaking, as were her knees, but her expression was set. She had never felt so clear, or so determined and angry in her entire life.

Draco opened his mouth, and she knew she didn't want to hear it, but she let him speak anyway. "Ginny," he whispered into the ringing, shameful silence. "I'm so sorry."

She nodded at him. "You should be," she hissed, her eyes dark. She licked her lips, cleaning them of the blood there—some of which was his, and some of which was hers. She shook her head, and looked him up and down in disgust. "Now I can see clearly," she told him, her voice slick with hatred. "Now I can finally see what a fool I've been. How I could ever have fallen for such a bastard like you, I'll never understand. I thought you were different, I guess. But my friends were all right about you, all along." She backed herself further into the doorway. "I should have listened to them." He did not stop her as she left.

Her heart was pounding horribly against her ribs as she exited the bedroom, crossed the main room quickly, and slammed the door to the suite behind her. She'd felt so strong in there, standing up to her violently tempered lover, but now, as she leaned against the door from the outside to catch her breath, her emotions caught up with her, and she broke down, her tears overpowering all other thought within her as her body throbbed and ached sorrowfully. She put a hand to her sore stomach as her sobbing grew harder, and she slid down the wood at her back to collapse upon the rug beneath her. The reality of what had just taken place was more painful than anything she had ever experienced—right beside the few minutes when she had thought Harry was dead, back in her sixth year at Hogwarts. She'd gone through break-ups before, but nothing like this. None of her relationships had ever ended because she'd been too stupid to realize that the man she was with had a temper that might endanger her. She had been so blinded by love to realize the truth, too blinded to realize that Draco could seriously hurt her. But now she knew. She could get away before he could do anything else to her.

The thought didn't cheer her up. What made her feel even worse was the fact that she still—inexplicably—loved him.

But love, as it turned out, just wasn't enough.

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**A/N:** I am so sorry. I TOLD you it was going to go downhill, but did you listen?! Nooooo! Here you are, still reading it anyway, so don't blame me! It's not over yet, though, so DON'T WORRY!!! I'm so mad at myself for having this happen, but honestly, this is just the turn that my story took without my direction! I didn't mean to! I swear!! There's still more to come, though, so hold your breath, and keep your fingers crossed that I don't unintentionally make things even WORSE. Uggggh!!! Reviews would certainly be nice!! I like to hear your opinions, even if they are furious insults about how awful this chapter was. Yes, that's right. Y'all have permission to flame, 'cause I feel like after this chapter... I deserve it. Waah. 


	25. Almost Lover, Blue

**A/N:** HOLY CRAP IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I UPDATED!! WAAH! KILL MEEEEE!! I am sooooooo sorry. Thank Diger for reminding me how long it's been!! Without that little nudge, I probably would have continued to be lazy for another several weeks... or maybe even MONTHS!! GAAH! HOW HORRIBLE!! It's just that I'm a senior, and seniors are LAAAAAZYYYYY!!! Procrastination has become my bestest friend in the whole wide world, and I absolutely ADORE slacking off and sleeping and watching movies and shit. I also got kinda distracted by my new Pirates of the Caribbean fanfic, which I started in the beginning of January, and which has tragically stolen my attention away from this story. Silly, silly Jessa. I is bad. Very, very bad. Bad, bad me.

But anyway, speaking of horrible, this chapter is gonna upset a lot of you also, just like the last chapter. I must admit, though, I was surprised at the fairly positive response I got to that violent Draco!! I thought people would be tearing out their hair in fury, and plotting my demise, but no! People seemed to enjoy it!! I love a violent Draco as much as the next person, don't get me wrong, but I didn't think that Ginny LEAVING Draco was gonna get such a good response. And yet it did! How odd! I love you guys!! You're so unpredictable!! And only ONE person guessed vaguely what was gonna happen in this chapter. I thought more people would get it, but again, you guys are so fabulously unpredictable! Eep! Well... HAPPY READING, MY SWEETS!!! ENJOY THE CHAPTER!!!

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Ginny's eyes were dry, like taps sucked clean of all their moisture. It hurt to blink. Her body was numb all over. It was torture to move even at all. She pressed a hand to her stomach as she stepped into the hotel's fire and said in a hoarse but clear voice, "The Burrow." She didn't trust herself to apparate, in this state. She spun violently through the flames, passing fireplace after fireplace after fireplace, making her feel lightheaded. She shut her eyes, and sunk into the feeling of the dizzying journey. The moment didn't last long, though, and very soon, she was falling face-forward onto her kitchen floor.

The worried shouts that greeted her clumsy entrance sounded distant and unreal to her. When she looked up, the anxious faces gazing down at her were all a blur. She blinked painfully, but nothing came into proper focus. "Mum?" she croaked desperately. "Mum." She didn't know how to word what she wanted. "_Mum_," she said again, her urgent voice cracking.

"Oh, Ginny," her mother sighed piteously. Ginny felt warm hands slip beneath her shoulders, and she was being suddenly lifted from her spot on the floor. They were not her mother's hands. She knew her mother's touch well.

She blinked hard once more, trying to steady herself as the person holding her up tried to place her on her feet. The breathing pattern was familiar. "Ron?" she asked cautiously, recognizing his nervous breaths.

"You look terrible, Ginny," he said, confirming his identity. "What did he do to you?" Of course, he'd already know where she'd gone. They all would, wouldn't they? It must have been obvious. Perhaps they had even been waiting for it to happen.

She could only shake her head. Her abdomen was extremely sore from when she'd fallen—been thrown—from the bed back at the hotel, and it hurt to be standing. She backed up, trying to find a seat. Ron seemed to understand her movements, and she felt him shift against her as he slid a chair directly behind her. She fell graciously into it, still shaking her head. She avoided the gaze of everyone around her, staring at her knees instead. "I hate this," she whispered, echoing Draco's words. "I hate _him_."

"What happened, dear?" her mother queried in a trembling voice. Ginny sensed the older woman kneeling before her, and she looked up slightly so that she could see her mother's caring face.

"Mum," she breathed, her tone drenched in desperate tragedy. She swallowed, her chin quivering with the need to break down again. But she had no more tears to shed. "Mum," she sighed again, taking her time to admit the thing she said next. "I need help."

"Oh, darling," her mother squealed, taking Ginny's head into her arms and hugging her tightly. "Oh, sweetheart, everything will be alright. Everything will be alright, love. Don't worry."

Ginny sniffed emotionally. "I know, mother," she agreed with surprising maturity, patting the older woman comfortingly on her head. "I know. But right now, I need help."

"Oh, my baby girl… you're so grown up. I know you're in a really bad mix right now, dear, but you are _so_ grown up, and you've been through so much."

"Mum," she choked, "I'm never going back. I just went to Draco, and he was really nice at first, he was really…" Her tongue seemed to suddenly lose its ability to function, and she had to pause for a moment to regain the will to speak. "He was… fine… at first. He had… gone back to his father, y'know, and his father had… Well, he was in a bad state. But he was fine! He was happy I'd come back. He was so happy… _We_ were so…" She broke off, emotions clouding her words. Clearing her throat, she went on determinedly. "Then I… told him about… my condition, and he, uh... sort of, um… lost it." Her eyes grew unbearably damp at her own words.

Mrs. Weasley gave a small sob. "Oh, Ginny," she squeaked empathetically. "Ginny… I'm so sorry. But you're home again, and we'll take care of you, and that man can't ever touch you again."

Ginny's heart gave an aching throb. "It's Draco," she breathed thickly. "I never would have thought. He said… he loved me."

"And maybe he did… but any man worthy of your love could never hurt you this way, dear. You need to understand that."

She nodded, her head feeling heavy and unsure. "I do," she said quietly. "I understand it, now."

Ron appeared again at their mother's side. He took her hands into his wide, warm palms, and held them out. "Where'd you get these cuts?" he asked tenderly. She looked up at him. Never had Ron looked at her with so much caring, or so much sympathy. Was this even her brother at all? Did she really look so broken that he felt unable to bombard her with insults and accusations? He was her brother, after all. She hated that she felt surprised by his unexpected kindness, but she couldn't help it. He hadn't been particularly nice to her since she'd left Harry. Oh, Harry. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Um," she began warily. "There was, uh… broken glass on the floor, and I, um… I fell on it."

"You _fell_…?" Ron narrowed his eyes in sickened comprehension. "He pushed you, didn't he? Malfoy deliberately hurt my baby sister, didn't he?" His voice was extremely low, shaking with fury. "I'll kill him," he said threateningly, cracking his knuckles. "I'll kill him with my bare hands. Screw magic. I'll tear open his damn bloody throat, and rip his limbs off. I swear, I will."

"You'll do no such thing," Mrs. Weasley snapped. "Calm yourself, Ronald. This family needs nothing more to do with that Malfoy child. He's nothing but trouble. Do you hear me?" she asked, raising her voice so the entire kitchen could hear her more clearly. "None of you is to confront that boy. Don't even think about it. Just stay away from him. We don't need more problems. Ginny needs us right now. She doesn't need our revenge… just our care. So let's all please keep our heads level, and get on with our lives now that this whole nasty business is over."

"It's not over yet, Mrs. Weasley," said a hauntingly familiar voice.

"Harry," she sighed, shutting her eyes against the blinding pain that suddenly erupted in her head.

"Malfoy's a ruddy menace, and we'll have nothing more to do with him, yeah," Harry agreed, "but he's left something with us to remember him by, hasn't he, Ginny?"

She looked up at him, her heart feeling crushed and splintered. Her lips were trembling. She nodded pitifully, gazing into those harrowingly green eyes… those eyes that she had once loved so much. He was staring at her with such heartbreaking warmth that she felt dazed. "I'm so sorry," he said flatly to her, "that Malfoy hurt you. As stupid as your choice was to leave with him, you didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve him. You deserved someone who could take care of you, and he just wasn't it, Ginny. You shouldn't have had to learn that in such a way. You don't deserve to be hurt. You deserve better." Ginny's pulse was excruciatingly loud in her eardrums.

"I deserve you, you mean," she clarified quietly. Harry said nothing, but merely pursed his lips vaguely, and stared determinedly at her. Their eyes remained locked for a very long time, even while Mrs. Weasley spoke.

"Oh, I can't believe this has happened," Mrs. Weasley cried in distress. "I never thought my own daughter would get into such a situation."

"Now, now, Molly," Mr. Weasley cooed. "She couldn't have known what that junior Malfoy was going to…"

"Couldn't have known?" Ron interrupted his father incredulously. "Of course she could have known. In fact, she should have expected it. It's Malfoy, for goodness sake! But she's still not to blame. She needs us, now, like you said, mum."

Bill's sigh could be heard from the other side of the room. "Oh, Ginny," he said sadly. "If there's anything I can…"

"I can't believe him," George said heatedly, talking over his brother. "I agree with Ron. Ginny needs us, but I believe that Malfoy deserves a serious talking to. And I would have to vote on using our fists more than our words in this instance."

Percy sniffed angrily. "I must say, you're being very rash. I agree with mother on this one. Not that Malfoy doesn't deserve a violent confrontation, but…"

"Oh, now really," Charlie said exasperatedly. "Malfoy doesn't deserve anything from us. He deserves to be ignored. That'd be the greatest punishment to him, don't you see? To be treated like nothing, like an insect unworthy of our notice… it would destroy him, to think he made no impact, and to think Ginny cares so little about him that she just couldn't even be bothered with revenge."

"Yes, I agree with Charlie boy," Bill said finally. "I think that'd be best. Now, Ginny, if there's anything we can do…"

The room fell quiet again. All eyes were on Ginny, as though they were all hoping she'd tell them what they should be doing to assist her. She merely blinked, her gaze still trapped unyieldingly in Harry's. She gulped, still not taking her eyes off of him. "There's nothing," she told the room gratefully. "But I appreciate it all. Thank you." And at that, she broke away from Harry's painful expression, and looked back at her mother. "Thank you so much, but I'll really be okay. I just… I just need help," she sighed. "I just need company, and kindness, and… I just want to feel cared about, that's all." Her stomach gave a painful twinge all of a sudden, and she felt dizzy. She placed a hand over her lower belly, breathing deeply as she gripped the edge of the kitchen table with her other hand to steady herself so she wouldn't fall out of her chair.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked hurriedly, placing an anxious hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

She nodded quickly, doing her best to ignore the ache. "Yes… yes, I'm fine," she breathed. "I just… I think I bruised myself when I fell."

"You mean when Malfoy hurt you," Ron snapped furiously. "Why won't you say it, Ginny? The bastard is fucking abusive."

"He isn't," she said desperately, gazing up at her brother with watery eyes. "He's never… he wouldn't normally, but… I told him that I was… so he, um…" She sniffed. "Well, it was something he just couldn't handle."

"Don't you go blaming yourself, you idiot," George hissed passionately. "He's a cruel bastard, and he does not deserve to have excuses made for him."

Ginny could only nod to that. She knew it was true, but she still loved the man. She couldn't help it. Perhaps she would always love him. That thought was not a pleasant one, and it made her shiver unhappily. She didn't want to be stuck with these feeling for the rest of her life.

Mrs. Weasley sighed, and placed an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "Things will be better, now, Ginny," she told her. "We'll take good care of you… _and_ your baby. Who really cares that it's half Malfoy?"

Most of the people in the kitchen shifted nervously. Obviously a lot of them _did_ care. "Well," Ron said cautiously, "I won't deny that I hate it'll be half Malfoy… but it's also going to be half Weasley, so it can't be all bad. I swear I'll treat it just like one of the family."

She gave Ron a watery smile. "Thank you, Ron," she whispered in relief.

"Now, you're sure there's nothing any of us could do for you, Gin?" asked Bill.

"No… Actually, I think I'd just like to be left alone for a bit. Is that alright?"

Mrs. Weasley made an odd sound. "Oh, of course, dear!" she said desperately, as though determined to show that she'd do anything for her daughter in this moment. "Anything! Do you want to stay here, or…?"

"I'll go up to my room."

"Alright then, darling," she said loyally, making to help Ginny out of her chair.

She scoffed. "I'm fine, mum," she said delicately. "I can stand on my own."

"Sorry, dear." Mrs. Weasley backed off, blushing slightly.

Ginny stood slowly, clutching her stomach protectively. "Thank you all," she said again to the people crowded around the kitchen. "You're so good to me, even after all I've done to you lot."

"We love you, Ginny," George told her sweetly. "Even if you are a bit of a fuck up." Ginny couldn't help but smile at that. She stuck out her tongue at her brother in amusement, realizing as she did so how honestly glad she was to be back home.

She sidled out of the room, made her way up the stairs to her bedroom, and sat carefully upon her bed. The sense of childhood that hung around it made her smile. She smiled at a poster she had up of the Holyhead Harpies. She was now a professional Quidditch player for the team that she had worshiped when she was young. She felt so old, now. But with a sudden thought, her smile fell. What if she was kicked off the team because of her pregnancy, after only one practice session with them? She hoped they wouldn't kick her out. If they did, she would consider herself a failure, and she really didn't want that. She bit her lip, staring at the poster further. It was Draco who had brought her to those try-outs. It was Draco who had encouraged her towards her dream of being a Quidditch Player. It was Draco who had shown her what passion was, and what freedom was. It was all about Draco. Would it always be that way? Would he stay forever on her mind, haunting her? She hoped not. She closed her eyes, trying to stop thinking so much, but the image of Draco raging at her, clutching her wrists, shaking her, throwing her from the bed… The memory was seeping through her head like an emotionally draining poison. Small portions of the incident were flashing in her mind, out of order, so she got extremely confused, and the pain of it all became overwhelming.

A gentle knock upon her door made her eyes flutter open. She was glad for the distraction. She thought she might go mad if she sat there any longer, brooding over what Draco had done. "Come in," she called to the stranger. Although she wanted her space from her family at the moment, she wasn't completely opposed to company.

When the door clicked open, she gasped. Of all the people currently at the Burrow, she had least expected Harry to approach her willingly. They shared a moment of uncomfortable silence before he finally spoke. "Hi, Ginny," he whispered, as though fearful that his voice would hurt her.

"Harry," she muttered hoarsely. "Oh god, Harry. I can't even begin to apologize for what I've done to you."

"Yeah," he said. "You're right. But I didn't come up here to make you guilty. I just wanted to tell you personally how sorry I am that you had to go through that. I know you loved him… as disgusting and unthinkable as that is," he added bitterly, his expression growing suddenly dark, "and I know it hurts to be so betrayed by someone you love, so I'm sorry… I'm really truly sorry you had to experience that."

Ginny scoffed. "Ha. This was your idea of not making me guilty?"

"Look, Ginny, what you did really hurt me, and I'm not going to deny that! You hurt me, and I just… I still love you, and I never wanted you to be hurt the way that I am. But you have been, now, and… I'm sorry."

She shook her head, glancing away from him, and down at her feet. "Oh, yeah, you're sorry," she spat sardonically. "I bet inside you're thinking that I finally got what I deserved, right?"

"No!" Harry snarled, taking a step further into her room and making Ginny feel more uncomfortable. "I would never wish for you to get hurt like that! How can you think that I'd want this for you? All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy!" She looked back up at him, and was surprised to see how red and damp Harry's eyes looked.

"How can you still feel that way after what I did to you?" Ginny asked desperately, her voice strangely high pitched. "How can you still look at me without wishing my death, huh? I don't understand you, Harry! How can you still be so strong?"

"I wasn't," he said quietly. "For a long while, I wasn't. I was mad with grief, and rage, and a desperate need for vengeance. But I calmed down after a while, and was simply numb. But now you're back, and it's like that numbness can finally ebb away, and I'm feeling again. And all I can feel, Ginny, is you. You, and everything I ever felt for you—friendship, respect, love... and the disappointment, too. I feel it all, and it's mind-blowing. I feel like I'm going mad again, and the only way to be well again is to just make things right with you."

Ginny's heart felt inflated. Her ribs were aching with the pressure. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, and feel her pulse against her stomach as she continued to clutch it nervously. It was hurting her violently, but she ignored it. "Harry, you… you're crazy," she breathed, shaking her head. "I could never do what you're doing. I could never be that valiant and noble. I don't think I'd ever have the courage to go back to Draco and tell him I still cared about him."

"Well that's because he's dangerous," Harry said calmly, coming to sit beside Ginny. "You're not dangerous, Ginny. You're everything I ever wanted and cared about, so how could I _not_ come back to make sure you're alright?"

She sniffed, feeling awkward. "Well, I'm fine," she told him blandly. "I've left him, so now I'll be okay."

Harry nodded, as though unsure of what else to say. He glanced down at her stomach anxiously. Clearing his throat, he pointed at it. "So, uh… are you feeling okay about…?"

"Yes," she said quickly. "I'm happy about it. I've always liked children, you know, and… it'll be something to remember Draco by, like you said downstairs."

He gave her an awkward smile, still staring at her stomach, which she continued to hold as though her life depended on it. "Are you feeling okay in there?" he asked nervously, eyeing her shaking hands. "You look like you're in pain."

"Just… a little bit," she lied. "But I'm fine." In truth, her abdomen felt like it was on fire. What was going on with her? A sudden blaze of horror shot through her, and she felt breathless. What if there was something wrong with her baby? What if there was something wrong inside of her? What if the baby had been hurt when she had fallen from the bed? Panic flooded her, and she stood abruptly. "I… thank you for your concern, Harry," she said honestly. "I need to, uh…" She never finished her sentence before gliding brusquely from her room.

She hurried down the stairs quickly but carefully, her hands still clasped over her lower belly anxiously. "Mum?" she called. "Mum, are you here?"

Her mother came scuffling in from the kitchen, looking eager to please. "What is it, dear? D'you need something? Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I'm just… worried," she said in a rush. "My stomach is… really, really hurting right now, and… I'm just…"

"Worried about the baby?" Mrs. Weasley asked sympathetically, her eyes wide. "Oh, dear, well... I've had seven children, and each pregnancy went smoothly enough, so I'm not really…."

"I need to know if there's something wrong, mum! Find out! I don't care how, just… I need to know." Her entire body seemed to be throbbing with unease.

Mrs. Weasley bit her lip, and was silent for a moment. Then she asked, "Well… are you spotting?"

"Am I what?"

"Spotting, dear. Are you bleeding?"

"You mean…" Ginny looked down at herself. "I don't know. I haven't checked."

"Well, I suggest that you do."

"And if I am… what does it mean?" she inquired speedily.

Her mother hesitated.

"_What does it mean_?" she asked again, raising her voice so it became very shrill and cracked. Her brow was creased with anxiety, and she was sweating profusely. She felt extremely ill.

"Well, dear," Mrs. Weasley told her tenderly, looking extremely distraught as she spoke, "it could very well mean you've had a miscarriage."

Ginny's heart was thundering wildly, deafening her. "And… do you think that's what I've had?"

"I don't know, darling."

"What could cause one?"

"Any number of things, Ginny, dear," she said lightly. "Just go check, first, alright? Then we'll see what we can do."

Ginny did not respond to her mother. She headed for the bathroom as quickly as she could without her weakening legs giving out from under her. As she shut the door behind her, she began to pant heavily. She had finally accepted this thing. She had finally accepted that she'd be having a child, and now… What if it was all over? Just like that? Because of Draco's violence? What would she do, then, if the baby was dead? In the deepest corners of her mind, she was already plotting her vengeance, and already feeling enraged with grief. But then again, she might just be paranoid.

Feeling her leg muscles turn to clay, she dropped to her knees on the dirty bathroom floor. She dragged herself carefully to the toilet bowl, and with a great effort, heaved herself up to sit on it. She was breathing very shallowly, and her blood was turning to fire in her veins. Her pulse was wild in her ears as she reached beneath her robes, and her fingers made contact with the fabric of her underwear. She slid them down her thighs, over her knees, and stared.

Her heart seemed to stop. Her breathing was very difficult. Her lungs had surely closed up, and she was going to die. She blinked slowly at the impossible sight before her.

The cotton of her underpants was saturated with blood.

An odd sound of disbelief and tragic despair spilled from her lips without her even hearing it. She shook her head. It simply could not be. Not after everything that she had gone through just to convince Draco he would be good for this child. After all that, how could this happen? How could it? It simply could not be. It _couldn't_.

The world spun. She did not want to replace her underwear, or to stand up, or to go outside and tell her mother that she was bleeding from inappropriate places. She didn't want any of this to be true. She wanted to merely sit here forever in denial. Maybe if she did that, the world would right itself. Maybe Draco would come back to her, begging forgiveness on his hands and knees, and maybe their baby would be okay, and they would raise it together, the way she'd dreamed. Maybe everything would work out. Just maybe it would, this time.

She was shivering noticeably, and it was hardly cold. Her entire mind felt wiped blank. She didn't understand anything, at the moment. What should she do? Tell her mother.

Gathering her strength, she forced herself to her feet again. Her limbs were trembling so enormously that walking to the bathroom door was seriously difficult. She placed her sweaty palm on the handle and turned it, amazed by every movement. Every one of her senses seemed in overdrive, though her head had become an emotional void.

"Mum," she gasped as the door swung open and she saw her mother waiting for her there. Her surroundings were spinning wildly, and she was growing intensely dizzy. "Mum," she breathed once more, shutting her eyes. But the spinning and the dizziness did not stop, and small bulbs of dazzling color burst before her stinging eyes. She felt the sudden urge to be violently sick, and fell to her knees, the dizziness overpowering her.

The next moment, her head hit the wooden floor, her mother was screaming from somewhere above her… and she felt no more.

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**A/N:** DUN DUN DUUUUUN!!!!!!! Ginny has fallen unconsious. No, don't worry, she's not DEAD. She's just passed out from shock. I'd probably do the same.

Well, THANKS FOR READING, MY DARLING DEARS!! YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL!!!!! Remember that reviews keep me happy, and keep this story going!!


	26. Life Is Short, Ever The Same

**A/N:** You may hate me. I give you permission. But in all honesty, I liked this chapter. True, it was fucking HELL to get out because of my absolutely agonizing writer's block, so I'm sorry if it reads like it was forced, but I liked it. I don't necessarily like the way it turned out as a whole, but I just like it as a part of the story, y'know? Ginny's finally grown some balls--not literally, obviously, lol. It just makes me happy to see her being strong, for once. This whole story is really about our darling Ginny becoming uncharacteristically weak because of love, and here, she's finally strong again, and that makes me SO happy. But I give you permission to hate me, because I know a whole lot of you will be PISSED about this. And no, this is not the end. I don't feel like it's been concluded fully enough--also, I'm unwilling to let this story go just yet. XD lol. Sorry. Oh, and by the way... I haven't edited this chapter yet, so if you find any mistakes or whatnot, please do let me know! Thanks!

Do enjoy! Or not... y'know... whichever. o.o Thanks for reading, though!

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The world was very quiet. It was hushed and tense, as though the air was too anxious to circulate. Ginny could feel her pulse in her fingertips, which rested on a fluffy surface that she did not recognize. It was an uncomfortable sensation, and her fingers gave a small jerk in protest to the odd pounding. She groaned, clenching and unclenching her hands to regain their normal feeling. 

"Ginny," whispered a distant voice.

She swallowed. Her brow furrowed, and her dry lips parted with the desire to speak. All that escaped her, however, was an indistinct sound of confusion. Small whispers exploded around her, like a sea of rustling tissue paper. She shook her head, and finally opened her eyes. Things were very bright, and everything appeared to be spinning. For a moment, she felt like she was falling fast through some dark tunnel, but a second later, her vision settled, and she was able to look around her. A hoard of familiar, smiling faces surrounded her. "Hi, Ginny," said her mother. Ginny looked at her, and her lips twitched in a slight smile.

A few more quiet seconds passed, during which Ginny felt disoriented, and unable to remember what had been happening before she had gotten here. But then it all returned to her—Draco, his fury, her fall, their parting, her return home, Harry, her pain, her blood... The events of the past day sped through her memory in vivid flashbacks, and she shuddered, shutting her eyes quickly to stem the replay.

"Are you alright, Ginny?" came Ron's nervous voice, which was a low hum in her ear. She opened her eyes again and turned to him, feeling dazed from the sudden return of her memory.

"Yes," she said, nodding. "Yes, I think so." She gulped anxiously, looking away from her brother again to absorb their surroundings. "Where am I?" she asked.

Her mother gave a small cough, and Ginny glanced back at her. "Well, I… you fainted, and I… I got a bit overanxious and… Well, frankly, I panicked when you wouldn't wake up, so I just brought you straight to St. Mungo's."

Ginny's head gave a nasty throb of annoyance. "You took me to St. Mungo's?" She made a sound of irritation. "Oh, I'm so glad we didn't overreact," she muttered sarcastically.

Mrs. Weasley blushed scarlet. "Oh, excuse me for being careful with the safety and well-being of my children!" she huffed defensively. "I was worried. Can you blame me? Besides, if there was anything that could be done to help your…" Ginny's heart leapt. "But it was too late."

Her every nerve felt suddenly tingling with disbelief. "Too…late?" Ginny asked numbly, her chest expanding dramatically as her breathing deepened.

The somber expressions of her family members around her confirmed it, and Ginny felt a strange sense of detachment overcome her. She had failed. She was a failure. There was no other way to describe her at the moment. It was overwhelming, this feeling of complete and utter self-loathing. She had let down the one thing Draco had ever given her, and now it was gone. The only positive outcome of their relationship was destroyed, now, and she couldn't help blaming herself. She should have been blaming Draco, she thought furiously to herself, but she couldn't help it. _She_ was the one who'd been carrying that baby. _She_ was the one whose body had been too fragile to keep it safe. _She_ had been the vessel of its developing life—the vessel that had failed to support it. She had let it die.

Whether or not any of these things were true, she felt them rattling in her thoughts as though they were solid fact. It hurt.

"Well," she breathed, unsure of what to say. "That's… that, then… I guess." Tears were sliding down her cheeks without her noticing, and she didn't bother to wipe them away. She couldn't bring herself to lift her arms.

"Oh, Ginny," her mother cooed, leaning forward to embrace her. "You'll be alright," she said, "and that's what matters."

She sniffed pathetically against her mother's shoulder. "I'm so stupid," she sighed.

"No, Ginny, dear," Mrs. Weasley told her calmingly. "No."

"Yes," she disagreed, "I am."

"Yeah, you are," Ron said with a nod and a smile, "but we love you, and you're okay, now, so we can finally put this whole business behind us."

She shook her head. "No, we can't, Ron," she told him sadly.

"We can," said Bill quietly, his kind expression melting Ginny's icy heart. "You're feeling guilty enough about this, and we all know it—there's no way we could hold it against you for long."

Ron scoffed. "Speak for yourself," he snapped grumpily. "But all the same, you're my sister, and I'll be by your side forever and ever, even if you are the biggest idiot I've ever met."

Ginny self-disgust was growing with every word Ron spoke. "Ron, please," she said, closing her eyes to calm herself. "I know you mean well, but… please. This is why I said we can't put it behind us… because I know you, and you'll always be thinking about it. You'll always hold it against me. And I'll go through the rest of my life being nervous about anything I ever say to you, afraid you'll bring it up again. I know us, Ron, and I know our relationship. That's the way it's going to be."

His blue eyes grew wide and glossy with incredulity. "You really think I'd do that to you?" he asked, his voice low and shaking with horror. "You really think that I would… pin you to your mistakes for… for your entire life? Gin, you're my baby sister. First and foremost, I look out for you, above all else. So when your mistakes get you into trouble, that's what I'll do: I'll look out for you, and I'll take care of you, even if I may chide you a bit along the way. My primary job is to look after you, Ginny. Nothing and no one is ever going to change that, no matter how bloody ticked off I may feel about it." He smiled warmly, his ears turning red. Hermione was beside him, and she had her hand encouragingly on his forearm.

Feeling a strange weight lift graciously from her heart, she looked at the people clustered around her hospital bed. Her entire family was there: her parents, and all six—five of her brothers, as well as Hermione and Harry, who was keeping remarkably still and silent. In a sudden wave of torrential despair, Ginny gave a great heaving sob. "I miss Fred," she choked, and George went rigid. The whole crowd became tense with collective sorrow. It was the first time Ginny had mentioned her grief to the family since Fred's death. "I miss him so much."

Hermione made an odd noise, her eyes very red. Ron was staring at his knees, his brow dangerously low on his face. His fists were clenched in his lap. Bill's face was stony and ashen, one of his eyes twitching. Charlie placed his face in his hands, and rested his elbows on his knees to support his own weight. Percy's lips were trembling, and his eyes were extremely shiny behind his glasses. He was sniffing loudly. Mr. Weasley looked as though he'd just been hit with a stunner curse, he was so stiff in his seat, his jaw set. Mrs. Weasley, on the other hand, was hunched and shaking, and appeared on the brink of a meltdown. Harry was stoic.

But Ginny's eyes were fixed on George, whose gaze stayed locked with hers for a long while. His eyes were full of such intense love, and such devastating grief, that Ginny felt breathless to look into them. Yet she could not pull herself away. She loved him so greatly in that moment, and suddenly wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him. And at the very instant when she made to sit up and do just that, George flung himself at her, as though knowing exactly what she had been about to do.

Their anguish consumed them, and the two siblings broke down in tears with their arms locked desperately around each other's necks. They were longing for Fred's presence—for his sarcasm, his laugh, his smile, his love—and they clung harder to one another as their repressed memories suddenly burst free, and spilled out of them in a gush of emotional sobs. She had never seen George cry like this—never. At Fred's funeral, George had been a blank, emotionless wreck, but he had not cried. Not even then. Why was it, Ginny wondered through her tears, that another person's pain could inexplicably bring out the repressed pain in onlookers? Whatever the reason, it was true. Bill was making strange sniffling noises, and Mrs. Weasley was just altogether _gone_—dissolved into a puddle of grief and shock on her husband's lap, which shook as Mr. Weasley struggled with his own tears. Hermione broke down at Ron's side, and he gathered her lovingly into his arms while silent tears streamed down his own pale, freckled face. But Hermione didn't seem able to stand it. She shook her head against Ron's chest, and prized his hands off of her, slowly getting to her feet. Sniffing sadly, she moved shakily towards the exit to excuse herself from the overly emotional moment.

The door snapped shut quickly, and Hermione's muffled but still plainly anxious squeal could be heard from behind it. Mrs. Weasley continued to sob, but George was beginning to go slack against Ginny's still heaving form. "I'm so sorry, Ginny," he choked earnestly, squeezing her tightly in his arms. "I'm so sorry about the baby."

"Me too," she managed in a strained, high pitched squeak. "It was all… all that I had left…"

Harry cleared his throat. "That wasn't all," he said quietly in a voice stricken with bitterness. "You had your family. You had your friends. You had me." Ginny tensed. "You've still got us. We're the constants in your life, Ginny, and we're not unpredictable and harmful like some."

George pulled back from her, dabbing at his splotchy face with his robes. Ginny could see Harry properly now, and she saw that the expression behind his hypnotically green eyes was very cold, but very meaningful. Gazing into them, she experienced a spasm of deep guilt, which was accompanied strangely by a heartwarming glow. "God, Harry," she sighed, shaking her head in shame, "I've been so stupid." She smiled awkwardly at him as he blinked impassively. "I've always loved you. I've loved you since I was eleven years old, and that hasn't changed. You were always the better, safer option. Always. I didn't mean to fall in love, I swear I didn't, but he… I don't know what he did, but he stole me away from you, and from the safe love you offered that I should have kept a tighter hold on. God damn it, I'm a fool. I'm a ruddy fool, and I'll never forgive myself. I don't deserve your affections anymore, but I still love you, Harry. I never stopped, even when I was loving him. I would worry about you, and feel guilty, and bellyache over you when I was with him, and he… he would get so angry at that, he'd…" The things Draco would do to her when she would mention Harry had been so horrific, but so entrancing—purposefully designed to rid her mind of him, and focus only on Draco. It had worked. Draco was truly a master of mind games. She shook her head at the memories, her lip quivering and her heart aching, before finally continuing. "And… God, the things he did to me… I can't believe I ever stayed. I can't believe I ever made those choices. I don't regret the experience… because it was something I feel like… I just had to go through, y' know? Something I had to… I don't know… had to get out of my system, maybe. I just don't know. I don't know anything. All I know is that I loved him, but that I still love you, Harry. I'm just… so sorry."

Harry's eyes had gone soft. They looked moist and sparkling, and they were slightly bloodshot. "Ginny," he breathed lightly. He was limp in his seat, his expression unreadable. He and Ginny stared at one another for several minutes, both heartbeats pounding madly. She observed his features with a new perspective. He was so handsome—so much more handsome than she remembered. It was like having new eyes after all that had happened. The green of Harry's eyes seemed so much brighter, and his sweet face appeared so much more angular and masculine than she remembered, too. And there was his scar… the symbol that deemed him a marked man, the symbol of his painful past, but even more so of his victorious defeat of Voldemort, and of the steadily changing wizarding world. She smiled as she stared at him. Was there ever a man more heroic than Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived? Had there ever been anyone better suited for her, and for the life she'd always wanted to live? Draco could never have lived that life. He was too cowardly and weak, too self-involved, and too deeply immersed in the dark side. Harry was all she'd ever needed, and she'd given that up. Great sorrow overtook her as she realized what she'd let go, and what she might never regain.

Mrs. Weasley's noisy sniffles could not drown out Hermione's sudden squeak from outside. As her voice grew louder and more insistent, it became clear that she was talking to another person there. The crowd around Ginny's bed glared curiously at the door, all wondering what had Hermione sounding so tense. When Hermione gave a small shriek, Ron finally stood up, sweat developing on his brow as his face contorted with anxiety. Ginny watched his quick stride to the door with anticipation, and when he finally flung it open, Ginny's heart nearly deflated. She caught a quick sight of a distraught Hermione with her fingers in her hair, and beyond her, Ginny spotted a man—a man with blonde hair that was so atypically unkempt, he gave the appearance of a previously well-groomed man who'd lost all reason, and consequently gone mad.

"No," she muttered under her breath as Ron skirted out of the hospital room and shut the door behind him. "No, no, no, not this. Not him. Not again." She hadn't even noticed that her mother's sobs had subsided, but she turned to her. "Mum," she hissed. "I want to get out of here. I want to go home."

Her bleary-eyed mother nodded hurriedly, glancing warily at the door. "Yes, yes, I understand, dear. And don't you worry, love—he can't touch you here. Not while I'm around."

"He can't touch you, _period_," Harry snarled, rising ominously to his feet. Ginny looked at him as she sat up and took the robes that her parents were offering her. His hands were balled into menacing fists, and his expression was so fierce and foreboding, it sent a chill over Ginny's spine. She smiled. She could not remember a time when she'd ever witnessed him so defensive of her before, and she now discovered that it was quite a pleasing sight.

"Harry," she pleaded, "please. Let's not get into this again. I don't want anymore fighting, alright?"

He seemed to be struggling with himself. His legs were shaking as though they longed to make his way toward the door, and his hands twitched threateningly with the obvious desire to wrap themselves around Draco's pale throat.

The rest of Ginny's family was standing as well, all looking eager for a violent confrontation again. Bill, Charlie, George, and Percy all clustered around the door with their ears pressed to it. Ginny threw on her robes quickly, her heart drumming painfully inside of her, and glared cautiously at the door. There was really no need for any of her brothers to strain their hearing the way they were, for the voices beyond the door suddenly heightened dramatically, and every word became clearly audible. She held her breath, and clutched the hospital bed sheets at her side with quaking fingers as she listened to the shouting.

"I DON'T CARE HOW FUCKING SORRY YOU ARE, YOU BLOODY ANIMAL! YOU JUST STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"

And of course, Hermione's predictable terrified shriek followed this pronouncement. "Ron! _Please_! You'll get us thrown out!"

"You should listen to your woman, Weasley. The mudblood's got more sense than you've ever had."

"DON'T YOU _DARE_ CALL HER THAT, YOU—!"

But what exactly Ron desired to call Malfoy, Ginny never found out. There was a scream from Hermione, and the muffled sound of someone falling to the ground. Ginny's blood was pumping angrily, deafeningly in her eardrums, and she felt sure that she would soon explode with her mounting rage as the doorknob turned.

All at once, the door burst open, and Malfoy flung himself inside, looking in an absolute fury. Ginny stood so quickly, she made herself slightly dizzy. They stared at one another, the entire world spinning, and for the first time in what seemed an era, she looked at him with nothing but the utmost hatred. His grey eyes were violent clouds against his sweating, pallid face, and his hair was a right mess. Behind him, if Ginny had looked, she would have seen Ron pushing himself up from the floor while Hermione stood beside him with her fingers between her teeth. But Ginny did not notice. She did not care. She could see only Malfoy—the man who had taken her love and twisted it until it suited his needs, then thrown it to the ground and expected it to stay unbroken and loyal. She kept her eyes fixed determinedly upon the man who'd ruined her life.

"What did you think, _Malfoy_?" she asked him heatedly, her insides on fire with the pain and excitement that it caused her to speak ill against him. "Did you think you could just do anything to me and I'd still be yours?"

The entire room had fallen silent, though Harry was positively fuming, and Ron was panting like a wounded bull. Both looked ready to pounce, but neither acted, and Ginny was grateful for it.

Malfoy shook his head with a small, perverse smile. "No," he said quietly, his voice low and hoarse. "You're far too stubborn for that, _Weasley_."

The return to addressing one another by their surnames felt natural to them both; in fact, it would have felt strangely awkward to use their first names after what had recently occurred between them. What had taken place over the last several weeks seemed oddly surreal to Ginny as she gazed at Malfoy now, recalling how much she actually despised him.

"Then why have you come here?" she spat, her eyes narrow and her arms crossed protectively over her chest. "How did you even know I would be here?"

He shrugged vaguely. "I went to your home first," he admitted in a cracking whisper, "and some veela with an infant in her arms told me that the youngest Weasley had been moved to St. Mungo's because some lunatic had killed her child." His face was suddenly drained of what little color was left in it. He was so white, he appeared a sunken skull. "Is it true, then?" he asked, his tone suddenly uncharacteristically high pitched.

Ginny nodded, her lip curling in disgust as she did. "Yes, Malfoy," she said, feeling tears build in her eyes. "You son of a bitch, you… You did this to me. You killed your own child. Now you've got what you wanted, haven't you?" She continued to stare directly into his eyes, but his expression was melting into one of such guilt, that to keep her eyes on him for so long was burning. "You're no longer a father. It's just what you wanted. Everything's exactly the way it's supposed to be, now, isn't it?"

In a moment of uncontrollable emotion, Malfoy made a sweeping gesture as though to attack someone, and the entire crowd backed away. His hands closed over a nearby bedpan, and he threw it to the floor with an echoing crash. The sound reverberated menacingly throughout the room. Ginny flinched instinctively, and scuffled backward, accidentally treading on her mother's foot. She gave no apology, for she was too focused on Malfoy's rage. "HOW CAN THAT BE?" he shouted madly, saliva flying from his quivering lips in his frenzy. "HOW CAN THINGS BE THE WAY THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO IF WE ARE NOT TOGETHER?"

"BECAUSE YOU AND I WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE!" Ginny screamed, losing her head completely. It was as though the air itself had frozen, suffocating them all into complete, eerie silence. For several moments, she simply breathed heavily like an offended beast. When she had controlled her temper slightly more, she closed her eyes, and spoke more clearly as Malfoy's form was blocked from view. "You and I," she repeated, "should never have happened. We weren't meant to happen, and we never will be." She opened her eyes again. The pain and tragedy she witnessed reflected in Malfoy's glistening eyes was absolutely heart-wrenching, and her tears began to fall as she stared into them.

Malfoy took a deep breath that rattled Ginny's bones. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he said. "You're the only good decision I ever made."

"And you," she whispered shakily, "are the worst mistake that I've ever made."

The entire room caught her statement, though its volume was only just barely above a sigh. As they continued to stare at one another, she could read his expression as clearly as English. She could tell he wanted nothing but to claim her again—to sweep her into his arms and tell her he was sorry, to press his lips to hers once more and make everything alright with that single, emotional kiss. But she would not have it. She shook her head at him, her lips twisting into an agonizing smile. He seemed to understand.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny," he told her, reverting once more to using her first name. A harrowing chill flitted up and down her spine at the sound of it on his lips, and her breath caught. But she would not hear it.

She shook her head again. "Stop it," she told him firmly. "Shut up. Just… shut up. Don't you use my name like that… not anymore, you filthy bastard. Do not use my name as though we are _friends_." She narrowed her eyes, their gazes continually locked in excruciating understanding. "_We are not friends_."

And this time, unlike the last time those words had been uttered between them, the situation did not end in a sympathetic kiss. Not this time, no. This time, hurried footsteps approached the hospital room, making everyone turn. A nurse had arrived with Hermione looking anxious at her heels. "Is there a problem here?" the elderly nurse barked grumpily.

Malfoy glanced back at Ginny, who looked away from him for the first time. "No," she told the nurse. "No, there's no problem. I'm ready to go home."

The nurse nodded, glaring around at them all as she took in the tense atmosphere she'd stepped into. "Very well, then," she said irritably, drawing out her wand and conjuring up a sheet of parchment. "You'll need to sign this release form, and then you may leave." Ginny took a step forward, and outstretched her arm to take the paper, very aware of how close her hand was to Malfoy. She signed the sheet quickly, and handed it back to the awkward looking witch within the next instant.

As the nurse fled urgently from the room, Ron finally shifted from his position by the door. Hermione was coiled around one of his arms fearfully, but he moved towards Malfoy regardless. "You're a bloody bastard, Malfoy," he informed him plainly, before hurrying Hermione out of the room. The rest of Ginny's family began to follow, all giving Malfoy despising glares as they went. Very soon, it was only Ginny, Malfoy, and Harry in the room, while Bill held the door open as he waited for them to leave.

They stood very still for a while, Ginny feeling increasingly confused as she stared into Malfoy's cold, silver eyes. They were so bright, and so beautiful—but so cruel. She swallowed, breathing deeply. His shoulders were hunched, and his magnificent head was drooping in tragic despair. He had never looked so pathetic and downtrodden. "But…" he croaked, seeming unable to find proper words. Ginny straightened herself up, just waiting for whatever he was meaning to say. Finally, he licked his cracked lips, and gulped anxiously. One of his hands clutched his chest, and there were tears in his eyes. "But I'm so in love with you," he sighed. It was so out of character, and so heartbreaking a sight that Ginny felt her knees go weak. Her lips parted in silent shock, and her eyebrows knitted in tormenting confusion.

But a warm hand suddenly slipped into her palm, and she felt an unusual strength shoot through her from the touch. She looked down at Harry's gentle hand, and smiled. He stood tall beside her. "You don't love her," he growled furiously at Malfoy. "You could _never_ love her. Not in the way she needed to be loved—not the way she needs to be loved, now."

"And you can love her that much better, Potter?" Malfoy breathed resentfully, his sad eyes still fixed on Ginny. "You can keep a better hold on her, now?"

"I can," Harry snarled, squeezing Ginny's hand reassuringly. "And I will."

Malfoy simply nodded, and Ginny's heart both broke and mended all at the same time. She felt herself being pulled along in Harry's stead, but as they reached the exit, she glanced back one last time. Malfoy sat slowly upon the edge of the hospital bed, staring after her, his expression suddenly blank. He ran a hand through his hair, and clenched his jaw. She watched these simple actions with a painful sort of heat blazing in her chest. She gave him a single nod, and ripped her woeful gaze from him at last to follow Harry down the hall. Bill let the door fall shut behind them, and Malfoy was left alone. Ginny's wet eyes were red with grief, and similarly shining with freedom. She was strong, she was capable, and she was free. She had Harry, and Harry loved her. Harry could give her what she'd always wanted. He would not expect too much of her, nor would she expect too much of him. And together, they could at last be happy.

She was satisfied.

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**A/N:** Thanks so much for reading! Let me know your reaction, yeah? 

I love you dearly!


	27. The Reason

**A/N:** So ends my soap opera... with eleven painstaking pages of emotional and angsty dialogue. Ah, my friends... It has been a miraculous journey, and I am truly grieved to admit that we've finally come to the end. I don't really believe that there'll be a sequal, but y' never know. I'm sorry for the annoyingly ambiguous end, but that was the only way I could put myself at ease. I had two other versions of this, originally... one with an aggravatingly tragic end, and one with an unrealistically happily-ever-after end. I like this one the best, and I really hope you do, too. Some of you (most of you) will probably find it unsatisfying, and I'm sorry. Some of you will be glad, and I'm glad for it! Either way, I hope this story succeeded in my intention to put y'all on an emotional rollercoaster so you didn't know quite what you were feeling by the end. I was certainly very torn. I hope you were, too! It's been wonderful. I'll miss you deeply. Thank you so much for sticking with me through the only story that I have ever finished in my entire life (yeah, I know... pathetic). I'm feeling extremely accomplished about this, even though I'm not so sure it's a great ending (because I've never written an ending before, so... this is veeery new to me). So anyway... thank you dearly! I hope you've enjoyed this experience quite as much as I have! I LOVE YOU!

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**Five years later**

Teddy's hair was forest green today. The six-year-old boy hopped cheerfully up the street, his small hand tucked safely into Ginny's. He was tugging her along the cobbled street towards Honeydukes with anxious need. "Come on, Ginny! You're so slow! Come on! Hurry up!"

Ginny laughed, placing her other hand over her bulging stomach as they made their way through the crowd. She was especially careful this time, after her last experience with pregnancy. She didn't even let Harry near her for fear that she'd be unable to control her lust, and would accidentally hurt the child inside her in an attempt to satisfy her own needs. Perhaps she was a bit paranoid, now, but could she be blamed? She had not thought of Draco Malfoy in nearly three years—it had taken her so long to forget him—but this pregnancy was bringing it all back. Every time she lay in bed, now, she could close her eyes and feel his heartbeat next to hers, and his arms around her. But she would open her eyes and find herself very much disappointed by Harry's presence. That guilt that she'd experienced all those years ago had somehow found its way back into her bloodstream, and it now coursed angrily through her veins like the most shameful drug. She would often have to excuse herself from hers and Harry's room at night to cry alone in their bathroom, remembering her extinct love for Draco, and how wonderful it had been when it had thrived. She would smile through her tears, and coddle her womb protectively, sometimes actually wishing the child was not Harry's, but Draco's. But that was just absurd, she'd remind herself, breaking down once more. Hers and Draco's child had died long ago—before her body had even begun to display her pregnancy. And although it pained her to admit it, she genuinely missed the feeling of carrying a child she knew was Draco's. She missed Draco deeply, more than she'd have ever liked to say. But it was true, and she could not deny it to herself. She had given up on denying that almost three months ago.

And now, in late 2004, she was nearly due to birth Harry's child. According to the kind witch who cared for her in St. Mungo's maternity ward, she was to bear his son. She loved her unborn son so much that she felt consistently filled with the warm light of him. Yet whenever she was not surrounded by her family or her friends, her thoughts turned cold, and she could not turn them around even by concentrating her energies on her love for this son. Too often it was, now, that Draco refilled her heart, and it hurt—it hurt so much she was suffocating in the memories. It had been so long ago, yet that part of her was still stubbornly attached, and she could not tear it out of her, no matter how she tried.

But today, her mind was occupied. The wind was overbearing, and her skin was raw and red in the freezing air. She was shivering immensely, but Teddy did not seem to mind. He skipped merrily through the cold ahead of her, dragging her along after him. He was the one who had insisted on coming with her, otherwise she would not have brought him out today. She'd needed to do more baby shopping, and now an enormous bag plump with tiny outfits was slung over her shoulder as she scurried after her husband's godson towards Honeydukes.

Inside the shop, the atmosphere was much warmer. She was grateful for the break from the chilly outdoors, but not at all delighted by the crowds inside. She remembered vaguely the days when she'd been an innocent girl in Hogwarts, shoving herself among these crowds without a care. But now, with a baby on the way, she was not pleased by the urgent and careless people around her. She did not want to risk anything. But she closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and reminded herself how unlikely it was that anything would hurt the child, this time. She'd been much more careful this time, and cast multiple protection spells around her womb when she'd found out she was pregnant.

"Go on, darling. Here's four galleons. Get yourself something nice," Ginny told the boy as she placed the handful of gold coins into his outstretched hand. He gave her a wide, crooked grin of excitement, and scurried off into the crowd while Ginny stood in front of the large window by the door, watching him warily. Teddy had grown so much in what seemed no time at all. He looked so like his father, in almost every fashion—but he had his mother's energy, and he even walked the way she used to. Watching Teddy often made Ginny miss Remus and Tonks deeply, but Teddy was such a wonderful individual to be around that she could hardly be sad in his presence. He was so cheerful, and that quality was contagious.

She looked away from Teddy for just a moment—just one second of distraction—and a deep lurch took place inside of her. A pair of grey eyes as warm as a gentle fireplace was watching her from beyond the window by which she stood. Was this a hallucination, she wondered? She swallowed, shut her eyes tight, shook her head, and then let her eyelids flutter open again. No—there he was, standing outside, staring at her, as simply as though he were waiting for her to come meet him for some prearranged visit. But the way he stood, so motionless in the midst of the bustling streets of Hogsmeade and the icily whipping wind, made him appear unreal. He seemed an apparition, glowing, pale, silver and beautifully suited with the dull hues of winter. His scarf and robes were flowing, and small strands of his platinum hair were standing on end in the cold air. But his face was impassive, his gaze fixed and his posture rigid.

As though by instinct, Ginny turned away from him to search the interior of Honeydukes. "Teddy?" she called.

The child bounced over the heads of some other kids his age, an eager smile plastered on his face. "I'm here!" he squeaked.

"I'm going outside," she called, her voice wavering slightly. "Meet me out there?"

"Sure, Ginny!" he piped, before disappearing once again into the sea of happy customers.

Ginny made her way outside easily, and the frosty air smacked her cheeks like an offended hand. She gulped as she locked eyes with her observer once again. His expression was so placid, she knew not what to make of it. She knew even less what to make of her own emotions, which seemed to have gone numb. It had been five years—five years since she had seen Draco Malfoy outside her vivid memories. Yet here he was, as real as she was, standing there as though no time had passed. He certainly looked more aged than the last time she'd laid eyes on him, but he was still overall the same. His eyes seemed to have developed a softness she did not remember, and his thinning hair donned streaks of premature white. His face was slightly more lined, now, but all in all, he was the same Draco that she recalled from all those years ago.

When she came to a stop before him, he blinked slowly at her. The moment of silence that passed between them was dense, bursting with their unspoken words. Her long, red hair blew about her face in the wind, and appeared to frame her view of him in dancing fire. She lifted a hand, and tucked her wild mane into her overcoat so that her image would not be obscured. She wanted to just look at him—just observe Draco fully for the first time in five years. Her lips betrayed her, and smiled lightly as she took in the sight. She could not help it. She had missed him—or at least, she had missed being near him, or being able to look at him without hatred.

For the first two years following hers and Draco's miserable relationship, she had wallowed despairingly in her anger, and let herself blame him. She hated him so terribly that her hate took up everything she was, but Harry had brought her back from that hate. He reminded her of all the good in the world, and the possibility of a happy life. She would never have expected him to take her back so easily, but he had, and she was grateful. And slowly, over time, she forgot about Draco—for the most part—until very recently. He had finally returned to her thoughts, but this time, he was purged of the hatred that she used to keep cloaked over every memory of him. There was a lingering resentment that remained permanently attached to that part of her life, but after so many years, she could not hate him. She sometimes feared him, sometimes pitied him, and always resented him—but she could not hate him anymore.

She took a very deep breath, one that seared her lungs in the bitingly cold air. "Hi," she said plainly on an exhale, not feeling as though any more complicated words could express the ineffably complex emotions that were churning in her heart at the moment. A large white cloud escaped her lips, and evaporated between them. Together they watched it vanish, and then their gazes returned to one another.

"Hello," he sighed. He emitted a similar mist with the word, and again they were temporarily distracted by it. They seemed to be searching for any excuse not to focus on the emotions suddenly mounting between them.

After several more moments of silence, Draco cleared his throat, and nodded vaguely at Ginny's midriff. "You're expecting," he pointed out dully.

She nodded. "Yes."

He smiled, and she was taken aback by the honesty behind it. "You look good that way," he told her with a slight chuckle in his tone. "You were meant to be a mother."

"Was I?" she choked, her eyes suddenly stinging with developing dampness.

Draco gave a small nod, his eyes flitting back to her stomach adoringly. She could not remember seeing him ever look so caring. "You and Potter must be so pleased."

"We are, yeah," she told him.

He gazed into her eyes again, and she felt her chest tighten uncomfortably. "So he really took you back, then," he stated. It was not a question, but she nodded nonetheless.

"He did," she sighed. "I never thought he would have, but…" She shrugged stiffly. "…He did."

Draco's grey eyes clouded over, and Ginny's breath caught. "I can understand why," he said. "Falling in love with you is simply irreversible, no matter what you do."

Her lips parted as though to reply, but nothing happened. She tasted the icy wind on her tongue, and shut her mouth quickly, feeling awkward. In the returning silence, she folded her hands around her protuberant belly, wishing she could feel her unborn son's tiny kicks through her jacket. The feeling often calmed her during times of great stress, but at the moment, she could feel nothing. There was too much commotion around them for her to focus on it, and in any case, she was clothed in far too many layers to possibly feel even a single kick. She sighed up at Draco, wondering what was going on in his head. She could not decipher her own thoughts, so she decided to simply ponder over his. A moment later, however, she got her answer—though it wasn't one she liked.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he groaned, his eyebrows knitting together slightly. His strong, square jaw clenched, and a muscle tightened in his masculine cheeks. She swallowed nervously, and shook her head. She had not wanted him to apologize to her, for she did not know how to respond to it. She did not forgive him, nor did she think she ever would; but she could not hate him anymore, and this made everything complicated.

"Why are you sorry, Draco?" she queried, her voice cracked with uncertainty.

He shifted slightly where he stood, and glanced momentarily away from her as though admitting it made him guilty. "You should have been a mother five years ago," he sighed. "You and I should have been here today with a five-year-old child scampering around us, laughing, playing, and calling you mother." Her lungs seemed to freeze as she listened to him, and her heart compressed painfully inside her. "But I was afraid," he admitted. "I hurt you, only out of fear, and I never should have. There is nothing to be said that could ever redeem me, but I just need you to know that I'm sorry. I've needed you to know it for the past five years. It's been eating me up inside, and driving me mad. It's been destroying my life, and I've just been waiting for a day to tell you, and just have you listen. On my own wedding day, I…" He swallowed. Her lips parted again with involuntary shock. Nodding, he continued. "Yes. I'm married, now. I almost want to apologize for that, too, but…" He gave a noncommittal jerk of his head. "I love her. And on our wedding day, I told my wife about you. I don't know why I did it, but… I suppose, as my biggest regret, it seemed like something she should know, and I… Well, all it did was create tension between us. I shouldn't have told her." His eyes turned solemnly to the cobbled street, and Ginny watched him in amazement. She recognized the gleam in his eyes from all those years ago. He really loved his wife.

"I'm proud of you," she admitted slowly. He looked back up at her, his brow creased. "I'm glad you were able to find love again… someone you could open up to, and be intimate with."

He smiled fleetingly. "It was you, Ginny," he sighed. "You opened me up. I thought I came away from our relationship empty-handed, but… I gained so much more than I'd originally assumed. You made me open to love, Ginny, and I owe my life to you because of it."

Real tears started welling in Ginny's eyes, now, and it hurt to try and blink them away. "I'm glad," she croaked. "I always did hope you could learn to believe in love." Wet stripes on Ginny's cheeks seemed to attract the icy air to them, and she shivered.

Draco shook his head slightly, and gave her a much wider, warmer smile. "God, Ginny, you… you gave me so much more than I think you know. Y'know, when I met my current wife, it was all I could do not to ask about her family's background and blood, but I thought of you, Ginny, and was able to restrain myself. I didn't know she was a half-blood until nearly a year into our relationship."

Her eyes widened, and the tears fell more freely. "You married a half-blood?" she asked in a shaking voice. Her entire face was tingling with the effort of fighting the reflex to sob. "You… married someone… for _love_?"

He nodded, his eyes narrowing dramatically as they grew extremely red around the rims. His lips were shaking, and she had a feeling it was not because of the cold. "I did. And it was because of _you_, Ginny. Coming away from our relationship was like the most intense revelation. I learned more about myself during those few weeks than I did at any other point in my life. And… my god, Ginny… you made me want to change the person that I was so badly, I grew sick with it. I was crazy with the desire to be different, and I didn't know what to do with myself. But I did it, Ginny. I got a job as an editor for the Daily Prophet, and I bought my own flat with my own money and everything." His voice tore through her as she listened. He sounded so desperate to prove his worth. "I've _changed_, Ginny," he cried, his tone rising so drastically, he sounded like he was pleading with her to understand. "I had _never_ wanted to change before you came along. I owe you everything that I am, now!"

Ginny did not know what to say. After everything he had put her through, she did not want to believe he could be different—and yet, that part of her that missed him had already submitted to his desperate pleas. Feeling unable to respond to anything but the simplest statements, she gulped, and said, "You got a job at the Daily Prophet?"

His breathing slowed, and he seemed to relax. He seemed to be torn between disappointment and relief that she had not replied more directly to his insistence that he was different now. "I did," he said. "And I hear your name quite a lot because of it. You're much loved amongst the sports critics."

She blushed slightly. "Am I?"

"Yes. And I heard you were quitting, recently. It's not true, is it?"

Ginny blinked stonily at him, and nodded. "Well, I'm preparing to start a family. I can't be expected to play Quidditch my entire life. It's been wonderful, it really has, but… I feel like it's about time to settle down, now."

Draco smiled sadly. "That's a shame. I went to every one of your games, y'know. My wife thinks I'm crazy for being such a Holyhead Harpies fanatic, but there you are."

"You've come to every match?" she asked, her heart aching.

"Yeah. It'll be sad to see you go, but you deserve a quiet family life, now. You always have." For a moment, he looked like he was suffering a great internal struggle, but then he continued. "I should never have denied you of that, those years ago. I was a coward—a pathetic coward. And now my wife and I are actually starting to think about having children ourselves."

Ginny's insides gave a strange flop. "You… you are?" She did not know how she felt about that. Part of her was ecstatic—so proud that Draco had grown a backbone and realized that he had the ability to be a better father than Lucius was. A separate part of her, however, was fuming with resentment. How could Draco destroy every possibility of a happy life with her five years ago, only to suddenly change his mind and settle down with another woman? She hated the conflicted feelings that were now battling viciously inside of her, but she tried to swallow them down as she reacted to this unusual news. "That's… that's _great_," she exclaimed tensely, though she knew her uncertainty was clear in her strained tone.

"I feel my guilt for having hurt you and the child we could have had… I have felt it every day for the past five years, and that guilt has made me an entirely new person. Every day, I hate myself for what I did," he told her. "I resent my actions, and how stupid and cowardly I was. I am… _truly_… sorry."

Ginny was very glad for the small figure that shot out of nowhere and collided suddenly with her thighs, for it gave her an excuse not to respond. "Ginny! Ginny, I bought some Pumpkin Pasties, look! And I got these—I'm not really sure what they are, but they look like bugs, and bugs are cool, and yesterday I found a spider at the Burrow and I showed it to Ronnie and he screamed like a girl and Herm-my-nee laughed a lot and I really don't understand why, but it was funny, and I think bugs are cool, so I got these, and do you think if we show Ronnie that he'll scream again, because that would be really funny, so I bought these to show him." Teddy was out of breath with excitement, and Ginny's heart felt warmed again as she gazed upon him. His presence seemed to solidify for her the life that she'd built over the past five years, and it gave her confidence as Draco continued to stare her down. She knelt beside her husband's godson with a glowing smile, despite the fact that her teeth were starting to chatter.

"Oh, Teddy," she fussed, whipping out her wand and cleaning the chocolate from the corners of his mouth. "You've been stuffing your face already? Oh, now, really. You couldn't have waited until you got home?"

"It was _really good_!" Teddy explained with a whine, as though this justified his actions entirely.

Ginny laughed. "If you say so, kiddo," she said, ruffling his hair before conjuring a woolen hat and forcing it over his ears. He made a face. "Hey, if you get to eat chocolate before your snack time, then I get to make you wear a hat. It's cold. We wouldn't want your ears to fall off, now, would we?"

He shook his head, his eyes growing suddenly wide with horror. He clamped his hands over his ears as though to keep them on his head. Watching all this, Draco gave a small laugh from above them. Ginny's stomach plummeted as Teddy turned to look at him, and she glanced up at him, too, her eyes awash in trepidation. "Teddy," she told the boy cautiously. "Say hello to this nice man. He's an old friend of mine."

"Hello!" Teddy exclaimed with remarkable politeness. His enthusiastic nature seemed to radiate as he stuck out his hand to shake Draco's. Draco's grey eyes widened in surprise at the straightforwardness of this green-haired child, and he stole a quick look at Ginny, who nodded. They grasped palms in an comically masculine sort of way. "I'm Ted Lupin," Teddy went on, shaking the bemused Draco's hand against his will. The boy blinked once, and his hair turned suddenly blonde. Ginny held her breath, watching Draco's reaction tentatively, wondering if he remembered.

"Ted Lupin, is it?" Draco asked cordially, an understanding smile spreading over his face. He knelt to greet the boy face-to-face. "Well, Ted Lupin, I am very pleased to meet you. And I must say," he added, reaching out and brushing down a loose strand of Teddy's now blonde hair, "you have very good taste."

"Well, Fleur had blonde hair and it's really, really long, and I always thought it was really pretty, and you have blonde hair too, except for that you're also white in places, but blonde hair's always really cool, and Victoire has kind of blonde hair, too, and she's really nice but I'm a year older than her, so I'm the big kid in the family." His cheeks went slightly pink, as though he'd finally realized he was talking a lot.

Ginny chuckled. "Oh, Teddy, you've had too much sugar, now," she said, taking away his bag of candies. But Draco did not appear to mind. In fact, his face was glowing as he spoke to Teddy.

"You're the big kid?" he asked, his expression one of delight at this transaction. "Of course you are! You're _so_ big, that much is obvious! How old are you?"

Teddy giggled, and put his fingers in his mouth. "Six," he gurgled, chewing on his knuckles with an embarrassed smile as he reached over with his other hand and clung to Ginny's thigh. She rolled her eyes. The kid had mood swings. There was no denying it.

Draco's eyes were sparkling. "Six? Wow, you_ are_ big!" His face showed mock amazement, and his mouth was stretched wide in an uncontrollable amused grin.

"Yeah," Teddy agreed happily, his round cheeks still quite pink, even in the crisp wind around them. "And Harry and Ginny are getting a baby, and then Victoire won't be the baby anymore, and Ginny says that when Ronnie and Her-my-nee get married on Saturday, that they might get a baby, too, and then Ginny and Harry's baby won't be the baby anymore, either, but I'll still be the big kid!" He looked absolutely ecstatic. Ginny watched Draco warily, however, as though waiting for him to suddenly snap and revert into a state of violent outrage. But nothing was happening; in fact, Draco looked utterly calm and composed. His smile was still present, and although he tensed slightly at the mention of Ginny's unborn son, he did not react outwardly to it.

"That's so cool," he said encouragingly to Teddy. "It's fun to be the big kid."

Teddy nodded eagerly, but he clutched Ginny's thigh more tightly as his shyness suddenly took over. He blushed harder still, and suddenly buried his face in Ginny's waist, saying nothing more to Draco out of what seemed sheer embarrassment. Ginny laughed. "He's a good kid," she told Draco as he stood awkwardly to face her again.

He nodded. "He's sweet," he agreed. A moment of silence was exchanged again, but then he spoke conversationally, as though afraid to return to their previous emotional topic. "So Weasley and Granger are getting married, are they?" he inquired curiously, though his tone was thick with concealed sourness.

"Yes," she replied.

"I always thought they'd end up as such," he mused. Trying to stay friendly, he made more small talk, continually glancing at Teddy as though afraid to upset the child's ears with his preferred conversation. "So, how is the old Hogwarts gang, eh? Have you kept in touch with all your little friends?"

She nodded uninterestedly, narrowing her eyes at him. "Yes," she replied again. "Not that you care, but Neville's planning to propose to his girlfriend, as well."

At this, Draco actually perked up, his eyes shining with amusement. "Longbottom?" he gasped, not concealing the shock on his face. "_Longbottom_… with a _girl_?"

"Oh, yes," she assured him. "He and that Hannah Abbot girl, from Hufflepuff. They're together, now. He dated Luna Lovegood for a while, there, but eventually she decided her destiny lay in discovering new and exciting life-forms in the jungles… so she left him to go exploring. I don't figure she's really the type to settle, anyway." Ginny rolled her eyes. "Why am I even bothering? You don't care, Draco. Stop this false politeness. I know you don't really care."

"No," he agreed. "I don't. But I _have_ changed, Ginny. That's really all I'm determined to make you realize."

"You certainly have changed," she admitted sadly with a small nod. "I can definitely see that. I mean, it's pretty glaring, the extent to which you've changed. It's almost unbelievable." She shifted her weight, pressing Teddy closer to her and running a hand over her stomach. "But I've changed, too, Draco. I'm not so weak that I'll give in to you again, the way I did when I was eighteen. I'm twenty-three, now, Draco, and you've got no power over me anymore. But I won't deny the truth, either." She sighed, needing to have it said, but not quite knowing if it was a good idea. "I still love you, Draco. It's as plain as fact, when I look at you, even five years later. Apparently my feelings have not waned, and I don't expect them too. But I'm not submitting again, Draco. I'm no longer yours. I'm not even Harry's. I'm my own person, now—finally. And you're not going to take that away from me, okay?"

His lips relaxed in a surprisingly content smile. "I wouldn't dream of it," he told her softly, his eyes glowing like small, grey candles that exuded the sweetest warmth to contrast the cold surrounding them. "You deserve this independence, Ginny," he told her resignedly, "and you deserve this life. I'm not trying to take that away from you in any sense. I just want you to know I'm sorry, that I've changed, and that… that I still love you, too, and that's not going to change, either. I never thought it was possible to love anyone, and then there was you—you and all your life-changing views and ideals that have made me so different, and made me believe in love. And then there was her… and I finally put those ideals to work, settled down, and married her. I'm not the coward I used to be. I love her, now… I really do. I never thought I could, but I do. Yet I still love you, Ginny, in a strange sort of way—like you're hovering eternally over my head, buzzing in my ear, whispering thoughts and good values to me whenever I'm indecisive. I don't even know what you did to me all those years ago, Ginny, but by refusing me… you somehow made me who I am. And, my god, Ginny… I've never been more grateful to anyone in my life."

Her heart was overflowing so powerfully with emotions, now, that she seemed unable to keep in her tears. As though her comfort herself, she stroked Teddy's hair at her side. "And yet," she croaked painfully, "there was a day you said you hated me for making you feel so unlike yourself."

He gave her a lopsided, awkward smile. "Those days," he sighed dreamily, gazing thoughtfully upward into the cloudy sky.

"Yes, those days. The things you did to me..." Her lips twitched as he looked quickly back at her. "It was as though you were trying to prove that hatred."

Slight color flew to Draco's ghostly white features. "I admit, I was rather…"

"Controlling?" she suggested.

He nodded sadly. "Yes. I was going to say needy… but I suppose what I needed was control, so both are true."

She cleared her throat, and rubbed the back of her neck, glancing away from him as the memories of their intercourse returned in a violent flash. "Are you still as…" She looked quickly down at Teddy, hoping he wasn't hearing or understanding this. "…Are you still as sick as you used to be?"

Draco stared down at his feet for a few moments. When his eyes flitted back up to meet hers, they seemed to have clouded over, and the corners of his lips were pinched in a suggestive smirk. "Sometimes," he growled. The old sneer that she remembered was sliding back onto his face, and a shiver ran treacherously through her. She skillfully ignored it, and smiled kindly at him.

"Some things do not change, Draco," she stated, a laugh present under her friendly tone.

"Yes, well, thankfully, a lot of things can," he said. "With a little help, anyway," he added, nodding toward her and grinning.

She grinned, too, and felt—for the first time in over five years—a _complete_ sense of satisfaction, as though the closure she'd been longing for all this time had finally come to settle their restless minds. And quite suddenly, the two felt like old friends meeting unexpectedly in the cold, very glad to see one another after a long time apart. "You look good, Draco," she told him quietly, her eyes glinting.

He nodded. "You, too," he said, eyeing her stomach. "Even when you're pregnant. Or maybe especially when you're pregnant. I don't know. You look good, though."

She giggled slightly, shrugging and caressing her expansive belly proudly. "I like it," she confessed. "I enjoy being pregnant. Y'know… without the nausea, and the constant cravings, and the back pain, and the breast pain—" She paused, and turned scarlet. Draco, too, looked slightly flushed. "Other than all that, it's the greatest feeling in the world."

"You were made to be a mother, Ginny," he sighed for a second time, gazing at her with adoration so intense that it seemed to burn her palpably.

"And you're so good with kids, Draco, you could easily be an excellent father. Just don't take Lucius as your example, okay?"

The silver in his eyes was dazzling as he smiled. "I won't," he guaranteed her. "I never should have in the first place."

Ginny felt pride wash over her. "I'm glad you can see that, now, Draco. You really have changed."

For a moment, Ginny was taken back to all the nights she'd spent with Draco those five years ago. She could see him naked before her, his body crushing hers with such desperation, she thought she'd never be free. She could feel his hands on her flesh, his teeth and tongue on her neck, his breath on her ear, his love touching her heart. But that was over, she realized, blinking away the old images to reveal the worn man standing frozen in the street before her. He looked slightly aged, but just as handsome.

She drew in a deep breath, feeling the frost of the day strike her lungs. "Well," she said finally, "I really ought to be taking Teddy home before his grandmother has my head."

Draco nodded vaguely, staring avidly at Teddy. His brow was furrowed. "Time really has passed," he stated.

Ginny nodded, not really sure what else to say.

"Look at him," he practically whispered, and Ginny wondered if he was talking to himself. "I saw him before, five years ago. He was so small, then. Now, look at him."

"Yes," Ginny said, running her fingers lovingly through Teddy's thick blonde hair. The boy merely looked up at her, blissfully ignorant. "He's gotten so big, hasn't he? He looks so like his father, don't you think?"

Draco looked momentarily perplexed, but then the realization seemed to dawn on him. "His father," he sighed, nodding. "Professor Lupin. Yes, there is a remarkable resemblance."

"You know," Ginny added slowly, "Teddy's mother was Nymphadora Tonks." When this fact did not appear to register with Draco, she cleared her throat, and decided to be more specific. "His grandmother is Andromeda Tonks… previously Andromeda Black."

At that, Draco glanced up, his eyes narrow with disbelief. "My mother's sister," he croaked. "Or, rather… the sister she pretends she never had." He stared back down at Teddy, his expression indiscernible. "Who would have thought," he muttered, "that my old Defense against the Dark Arts teacher would father the child of my cousin, and that said child would be orphaned and left to be repeatedly looked after by my first real love, of all people."

She gave a short laugh. "It's a small world," she said amusedly.

"Apparently."

As the noises of Hogsmeade became the only sounds again, Ginny cleared her throat once more to alert him to her exit. "Well, as I said," she reminded him, "I really should get Teddy back home. His grandmother—your aunt—won't be very pleased if I get him back much later than this."

"It's not so late," Draco grumbled, looking slightly awkward.

"Yeah, I know, but I still really ought to…"

"Hey," he interrupted her, suddenly reaching out and placing his palm over her hand on her stomach. Her breath caught, and their eyes locked. "We should…" His lips moved silently for a moment, as though he were struggling with his own words. She stayed quiet, letting him search his mind for a while. Finally, he choked out, "We should… get together some time." His eyes were glazed over with emotion, and Ginny's heart was beating fast. She could feel the pulse in his palm against her hand, and it was similarly fast-paced. Their rhythms were almost in tune.

She swallowed anxiously, tearing her gaze from his to watch their hands. His frozen fingers still felt curiously hot against her thinly gloved hands. Sniffing back an ominous flood of tears, she nodded indistinctly. "Yeah," she uttered quietly. "Maybe."

"Maybe," he repeated in a low whisper, his tone rich with joy. "Maybe is good enough for me."

"Just as friends," she reminded him warningly, glaring piercingly at him. Her expression was suddenly as icy as the wind engulfing them.

He nodded, and smiled. It was shockingly gentle. "I know," he reassured her. "Old friends. That's all."

"And just for the record," she said suddenly, "I don't forgive you."

He stiffened. "You don't have to."

"But I do see that you've changed." Her lips arched involuntarily into a warm grin, and he returned it. "And that counts for something." She moved to turn away, but let her eyes linger on his face for a bit. She did not know if she would ever really meet up with him—as friends or otherwise—so she wanted to absorb his presence. He was still so handsome, and could still make her feel so much. Whether it was painful or pleasant, she felt it deeply, like she was full to her bursting point with indistinguishable emotion. Her eyes were very wet. Shaking her head in confusion, she continued to smile at him. "It's good to see you, Draco," she breathed earnestly, and he nodded at her, finally letting go of her hand.

"Yeah," he said. "This was good."

"Definitely," Ginny agreed, moving backward now as she groped for Teddy's hand to pull him away. The old lovers shared a silent understanding that this meeting had been more than a pleasant reunion, but that it had somehow healed a five-year-old wound that had been ailing them both.

"So maybe we'll see each other," Draco suggested, his silver eyes conveying an equal mixture of doubt and hope.

She nodded. "Yes," she said again. "Maybe." She curled her hand protectively around Teddy's, moving away slowly with her eyes still fixed on Draco's handsome face—the face she still related to pain and deep love. The conflicting emotions danced rapidly within her, strumming terribly against her ribs, but she could do nothing for it. She sighed deeply, resigning herself to their inevitable parting. "Goodbye, Draco," she whispered.

And as she turned her back on him at last, she realized that in the depths of her heart, she was already hoping they would meet again. She had missed him, and their reunion had brought her closure—but similarly made her long for him again, though she had told herself she never would. So perhaps they _would_ meet again. Perhaps they would come together again to catch up over a nice dinner, and maybe they could start the friendship that they'd never bothered to build last time. This time, the circumstances were so much different, and she would not give in. She had grown into herself, and was settling down at last to have her family. They were both married. The world around them had changed, as well, and the political climate was far stronger. Everything felt different, now. They would not give into each other a second time. Surely not. She smiled vaguely to herself as she pulled Teddy away, who was waving a quick farewell to the solitary Draco behind them.

"Goodbye, Ginny," he called after her, and her smile slid into a keen grin.

Things were different, now; there could be no denying that point. Surely, in this changed world, there was less of a danger for her to reunite with Draco. Surely, so settled in her new life, there could be little harm in seeing him again, right?

Ginny smirked knowingly as she stroked her pregnant belly. Maybe—just maybe—she and Draco really would meet up again, and they could finally discover how much actually _had_ changed.

**The End**

* * *


End file.
